


Repercussions

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Drama, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Season/Series 04, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-02
Updated: 2006-05-21
Packaged: 2018-12-27 04:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12073326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Michael takes what he's always wanted. Will they be able to live with the consequences?





	1. Burn.

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: Beware: Slightly skewed time-line.

This is based on an idea that popped into my head. Probably not for everyone. I may change it to "anti-character", depending how the story goes.

Check out Jane2005's livejournal for an awesome fic. <http://jane2005.livejournal.com/> It's friend's only but she'll add you. (she's awesome like that)  


* * *

_**Burn.**_  
The shadows clung to him, clawing at him like razors tearing into his flesh. He choked back a sob and tried to burrow deeper into the blankets, wishing more than anything that the scent of his lover was strong enough to overwhelm the stench of him, of his sins, his blame.

His tears turned the navy linen black as he bit back a moan and a shudder. His flesh crawled as fingers slid across it, their advance slow enough to be soothing but rough enough to be abrasive. He tried to move, to scramble away from the lies that were holding him but he was powerless; his body was no more his to control than it was his to flee. All he could do was lie there and take it. Sobs caught in his throat like ice breaking as he tried to separate himself from that instant, that act, that pain.

It was more than just the physical pain of barely prepared entry, it was the dull ache of betrayal. His trust had been torn away like so many layers of cloth on his body. His head was pounding in time to the groans against his back and his skin was flushed hot with tears. Only his knuckles were icy white as they clutched and clung to the mattress like a lifeline.

“Please,” he gasped, his voice cracked and bleeding, soaked up by the pillow the instant it slipped past chapped lips. He struggled to draw the air to beg again.

He had never thought it was within him to beg for anything, to plead for everything. But there was little else he wanted except for it all to stop. Just **stop**.

“No,” he moaned, already knowing it was too late when heat flared inside him and his stomach rolled dangerously.

Slick skin peeled apart from his and his ragged gasps drew harsher when he realized how shaky and yet how warm he still felt, how wet he was where he shouldn’t be. His mouth dried and his stomach soured as a low keening began in the back of his throat. It ripped out of him and he was powerless to keep it back. The night was pierced by a wordless scream.

 

\---

 

The harsh light of the diner washed over him, illuminating every tired line and deepened crease on a prematurely aged face. His lips were set in a thin, silent line, eyes hidden behind dark glasses that served to conceal more than just his gaze from the world. His back was unnaturally stiff and his fingers trembled ever so faintly after setting his briefcase upon the counter beside him.

Vaguely he heard people calling his name but the sounds reached him as if in a dream, from somewhere far away that he had once lived and now only remained in memory. Gruffly he ordered a large black coffee to go and didn’t even notice when his voice creaked like words undone.

“Someone was up late last night!” came a chirping in his ear but his attention barely wavered from the hands laced before him.

“You look like shit,” another voice agreed on the other side of him and his body jerked, startled by their proximity. Terror sped the heart within his chest and his breathing hitched even as his shoulders hunched inward imperceptibly.

Just when he was ready to forget the coffee and flee their inquiring silence, the bell above the door rang once and the sound in the diner slowly ceased for him.

“Brian?” was the soft inquiry, coupled with a gentle hand on his shoulder that kept him from shaking apart. His faced turned slowly towards that fixed upon him and unbidden weakness rose from his chest to catch in his throat.

“Vic,” he moaned, fingers spasming for salvation like they had never stopped. Meeting concern through the black shade of his sunglasses, he shattered into a million pieces within the only embrace he could stand to accept at times like these.

“Oh Brian,” came the saddened murmur and the next thing he knew his own pillow was beneath his head, his own sheets cool against his skin. He lay still for a split instant before an animal’s trapped cry sprang from his lips and he was tearing himself from the bed, staring at the stained linen like it burned him. Fresh upon the fabric was the truth he had tried so desperately to scrub from his raw skin; he couldn’t face it anymore than he could stand it.

Looking down at himself and realizing he’d been stripped of the Armani armour he had so painstakingly chosen only a few hours before, he began to tremble again, voicelessly crying out for the man before him.

“Shhhh,” he heard gently in his ear, the soft murmur of wordless comfort soothing something of the young boy that still lay broken within his chest. “Shhh, I’ve got you, Brian,” the older man assured him, “I’ve got you.”

“Please,” he trembled, his voice hesitant and weak as he clung to his slipping sanity. “Clothes,” he rasped, bereft without something to hide the bruises that stood out all to clearly upon his skin. It was as if every drop of sweat had become paint upon his skin’s canvas; he felt like every second of the act had been drawn upon his flesh in neon for the world to see. He needed to hide, from the world, from himself and from the truth.

Wordlessly his rescuer slipped free of his clinging arms and brought back a soft, gentle shell to disappear within. He bit back a sigh that threatened to become a sob as the clothes were drawn up on his soiled body and his trembling lessened.

They sat upon the couch once he was dressed and he clung to the man’s hands like a lifeline.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” was the hushed inquiry and immediately he shook his head. The images painted upon his eyelids were horrible enough without giving them the power of words.

“I can’t,” he moaned, fighting not to fall apart again as exhaustion washed over him once more. Without a sound he was drawn into a tight embrace and, burrowing his face into the thin chest that had done more to support him than his entire family combined, he allowed himself to succumb to collapse and fall into a near-dreamless sleep.


	2. Freeze.

_**Freeze.**_  
Watching him wrestle with the demons in his sleep, Vic tried to stay as still as possible. It was difficult not to see the boy he had once comforted, again within the man curled along side him. He knew that where had once lain a lanky brunet hurting both inside and out now was an older man with more experience than either of them had expected. Only now, in his tortured dreams, all Vic could see was that the 16 year old who had come running when the world had beaten him down once more.

“You’ll be okay,” he couldn’t stop himself from murmuring, gently brushing the hair from his young friend’s face. Wrinkles of dream smoothed beneath his fingertips and he half-smiled as the man beside him eased back into less troublesome slumber with his touch.

Night brought dark shadows to the loft and although the older man wanted almost desperately to turn on a light, to chase away the thoughts that lingered on his periphery, he resisted and instead watched the faint light from the window flickering across the hardwood. His mind was filled with images and twisted nightmares of what had been done to the man warm alongside him. He couldn’t fight them, even though each was worse than the last.

By the time morning finally rolled around, he was sleepless and exhausted. His face was lined by a thousand dreams and he wanted nothing more than to cry for the pain he imagined. It had been difficult enough having to watch Brian stoically piece himself back together the first time but this time… this time Vic had a feeling things were worse. He didn’t know how, he wasn’t sure he truly wanted to, but he had a feeling.

“Do you want me to call Justin?” he inquired softly when coffee and a shower seemed to rouse the lanky brunet out of his stupor. He was hoping that mention of an absent lover’s name might help stir something aside from apathy behind those hazel orbs. He certainly wasn’t expecting the reaction he received.

Brian’s eyes went wide and his chest tightened almost perceptively. His pallor worsened and he clutched the counter, shaking his head frantically as his chest heaved.

“No,” he gasped, barely having strung two words together since the night before. “He can’t. No.”

He backed away when Vic stood and it was only in the deafening silence that followed that the older man realised he had actually said, “He can’t _know_.” His heart skipped in its rhythm and he bit his lip painfully.

“Why?” was the incessant inquiry, repeated a thousand times until it sunk into the hazy hazel brain. A searching look was the only indication he’d been heard. “Why can’t Justin know? He loves you, Brian. He’ll help you through this.”

“NO!” he cried, “He can’t know. Because… I’m- It means- He can’t.”

Whirling suddenly –albeit still stiffly – and striding quickly to the bedroom, Vic heard him rustling about and by the time he’d caught up to the whirlwind brunet, the bed had been stripped and the soiled bedding tossed aside. Brian was sitting in the middle of the bare mattress with tears on his cheeks, looking for all the world like a little boy in pain. Vic’s heart broke once more and he hadn’t the gall to demand a more expansive answer. Besides, he had an inkling for what it was about anyway; things like this had a habit of stripping away the lies they told themselves, even the ones that were barely concealed truths. Brian more than most seemed vulnerable to shame and he hated that he knew the reason why.

Instead of letting himself think anymore, Vic just sat beside him, hesitantly reaching when flesh did not crawl or jerk away to draw him into an embrace.

“His pillow,” Brian huffed a ragged sigh around the emotion caught in his throat and when the older man looked, he saw that the pillow case was crumpled and looked a little worn like time had gnawed it harshly. His mouth dried when he realised why it looked so chewed – it must have been beneath the brunet’s body when… when he had been so powerless.

“See?” the frayed brunet whimpered, curling more closely into the warm embrace supplied to him. His eyes were tightly shut against seeing more of the pain and pity within Vic’s gaze and he fought to steady himself. The sooner he was able to gather himself, to put the mask back on, the sooner he would be reassured that he would be all right, that he would come through this. It was only a matter of getting through the first few days; he knew that already. The only problem was that he just didn’t know how he was going to get through those days.

“Okay,” Vic soothed, gently rubbing his back and being grateful when the younger man didn’t wrench himself away, instead falling deeper into the embrace. “Just rest, Brian. We’ll talk in a couple hours.”

Brian nodded absently, the thoughts in his head already solidifying into something he could recognize. Things were starting to come together once more; everything was still shaky and ready to fly apart at the slightest provocation but for the moment he didn’t feel like screaming. Letting his eyes fall closed but balking against the images painted on the inside of the lids, he shuddered and sunk into restless dreams.

Holding his breath for a long moment, Vic found himself caught between running to the phone to call the man’s lover and demand he return to his partner’s side, and the unspoken request to leave things well enough alone. He settled for something in between and instead dialled familiar numbers.

“Michael?” he inquired when the phone was picked up. Hearing a soft breath, he continued in a rush, one eye still fixed on the oblivious brunet. “Can you come to the loft? I think Brian could use his best friend right now.” There was another intake of breath and then the dial tone ringing loudly in his ear. Frowning, Vic replaced the handset and shook his head to displace the unease settling there.

Meanwhile, on the bare mattress Brian was writhing in his sleep, flinching from imaginary touches and advances. He kept mumbling one thing over and over but Vic wasn’t near enough to hear it. The still air around him caught the breath forced from his lungs and twisted it into something like a plea and an accusation in an instant. It hovered for a heartbeat before soaking into sweat-slickened flesh and becoming part of the mantra in his head.

_Please. No. Mikey. Please._

He awoke with a jolt to a darkening loft. Shadows hedged his vision but he ignored them with a visible effort and an invisible shudder. Swallowing hard he forced himself to his feet and padded quietly to the couch. His chest eased slightly to see Vic snoring on the Italian white and he let himself gather that relief like armour around his tired shoulders.

Hot coffee burned his tongue as he sat at the counter but now that the initial shock had worn off, less than 24 hours later, all he felt was cold. The fire on his tongue was sharp, it was biting and it was something. Something more than the dull aching of tender, torn flesh and the sharper ache within his chest. He shook his head slightly in the silence, trying to dislodge the depression worming its way inside. Hazel gazed unfocused around the loft and his mind emptied of all but the darkness that filled him.

He jumped when the phone rang, piercing the empty air. If there had been coffee in the mug he would have been scalded, but instead all he had been was startled. Biting his lip anxiously and glancing at the still couch, he hesitantly reached for the handset.

“Yeah?” he grunted, voice still faintly hoarse from the emotional gambit he had been running lately.

“Brian? Where have you been? I called your office but-“

He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut against the unfamiliar emotions prickling the back of his eyeballs. Taking a deep breath, he knew he was about to test his skill as an actor.

“Calm down, Sunshine,” he managed, thinking that he sounded remarkably like someone dead inside. “Why are you so desperate to talk to me? Someone insult your honour?” Throw off suspicion, he congratulated himself, snark, then ask about the blond.

“Well I missed you and I wanted to update you on the movie and this hot guy I saw at the party last night…”

His voice was vaguely comforting as it droned in Brian’s ear and he tried not to be too disconcerted by how much it eased something within him. It almost felt like there was still some piece of the world that hadn’t been tossed upside down like chef’s salad. An instant later, though, it only made him ache to think of how much he would miss this when the blond found out… Found out what, he asked himself? That it had happened? Or that it had happened again?

He swallowed hastily as gorge rose along with patches of memory. His eyes squeezed more tightly shut and all he could manage was a grunt when next a response was required.

“Are you okay, Bri?” came the bubbly inquiry and he didn’t have the heart or the courage to say anything. Instead he muttered something about an early meeting and cut off the call as quickly as he could manage.

Opening his eyes again, it was to see Vic standing solemnly before him.

“What?” he demanded, eyes aching and chest strangely heavy.

“He’ll want to know,” the older man murmured softly.

“He’ll want to _leave_ ,” was the response. ‘And rightly so,’ he didn’t bother adding; they both knew he was thinking it anyway.

 

\---

 

Time passed like molasses. Nightmares assaulted him whenever his eyes were closed and daylight was rapidly becoming one. At his insistence, Vic kept quiet, however reluctantly, and since the only bruises were inside his head, he just had to keep a tight rein on his mask to hold them and their questions at bay. The one person he couldn’t hide from was Justin, so he stopped answering the telephone.

“Brian, I know you’re home. I called Emmett and he said they haven’t been out with you since Friday. What’s going _on_ Brian? Talk to me. Don’t make me call Deb and find out.”

Wrapped tightly in the duvet with a bottle of Beam clutched in whitened fingers, Brian let the sound of Justin’s voice fill the loft. Even angry it was better than dead silence.

Taking a long swig from the bottle, he welcomed the burn and tried to force himself to think about the presentation he had the next day. Things were busy but his mind was still numb. His body was slowly healing, only this time things couldn’t be fixed by topping everything within a four block radius. He wanted it to be that simple but the betrayal went beyond the use of his body; he couldn’t just use the same body to fix it, to make the dull burn go away. No matter how desperately he wanted to, he couldn’t seem to handle letting anyone touch him. The thought of flesh touching his, sweat mingling upon his skin was enough to bring back up the alcohol and retching left a nasty taste in his mouth.

Absently he was aware that people were starting to talk around Liberty but to speak would be to admit the truth. To admit the truth would be to weaken his reputation and when the shadows took a hold of the loft and his subconscious, that was all he had. All he had to cling to was the man he had once pretended to be. And that man would never let this happen. Never let himself be attacked, be violated, be _fucked_.

Wiping a hand across his mouth as he flushed the toilet, Brian caught sight of himself in the mirror and winced. His eyes were dark with shadows and exhaustion, and his skin was pale with ill-health. He let out a soft breath and forced his shoulders straighter, higher and stronger. He was determined to come through this; Michael be damned.


	3. Diner.

_**Diner.  
**_ Coming to the diner had been a bad idea, he decided, watching the steady trickle of people in and out of the door. He tried to ignore them but the murmur of sound surrounding him aggravated his aching head and rubbed his nerves raw; he was hyper-aware of every stare sent his way and found his fingers trembling when he reached for the coffee.  
  
“You okay, Brian?” came the cheerfully-concerned, bubble-gum-accented inquiry over the noise. He nodded absently, trying to look like anything other than a spooked animal. He knew it had failed when she settled onto a stool beside him.  
  
“What?” he demanded, fighting a sigh when it came out less sarcastic than tired.  
  
“Tell me what’s wrong,” she insisted, leaning close so that her voice barely carried. “I know something’s up, Brian. Don’t try to shit me. Vic’s been over at the loft a hell of a lot lately.”  
  
Avoiding her gaze and deciding not to reply, Brian took a sip of lukewarm coffee and grimaced. “Could I get some decent coffee, Deb? I’m not paying for shit.”  
  
She muttered to herself as another cup was poured for him but he wasn’t listening. His eyes were disturbingly blank when she leant across the counter and breathed in his ear, “Just tell me that Sunshine knows, whatever it is. Don’t do this shit alone.”  
  
He rolled his eyes, threw some cash beside his half-empty mug and walked out without a word. Debbie watched after him through the grimy front window until the bell jangled another customer and she flashed a grin at her son.  
  
“Michael! You just missed Brian. Maybe _you_ can tell me what the hell’s going on with him these days.” Turning to pour someone a cup of decaf, she missed the shift behind his eyes.  
  
“I don’t know, Ma,” he replied, settling in the so-recently vacated stool and letting his gaze laze around the people, trying to fight the sudden tension shooting through him. “I haven’t seen much of him.”  
  
“Hm,” she mused absently, “That’s weird.”  
  
“Yeah,” he agreed, ignoring the way his guts squirmed, “Weird.”  
  
Debbie continued around the diner after taking his order and he sat with a sigh. Just when he was ready to abandon his quest for lunch, the door chimed again and Michael found himself party to a conversation he would have rather avoided.  
  
“I’m telling you, Emmett, something’s wrong with him.” Ted took the stool next to Michael, not missing a beat, “He’s barely snapped at _anyone_ this week and only made fun of me once. It’s just not normal.”  
  
“I know what you mean,” the taller queen agreed. “I haven’t seen him at Babylon since Friday and you know he’s usually there Saturdays, if not Mondays through Thursdays. Especially since Justin…”  
  
“Don’t you guys have anything better to do than gossip about Brian?” Michael groused, barely looking up when his mother set a plate before him.  
  
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Emmett cooed, tossing an arm around his shoulders.  
  
“He’s probably just missing Ben,” Debbie injected, grinning at the thought of her son-in-law. She reached over to pat his head, frowning when he ducked away.  
  
“Ma, will you just cut it out?” He slipped out from under Emmett’s arm and tossed him a hard look. “I have got to get back,” he muttered, leaving the diner without a backwards glance for his forgotten friends or forlorn food.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
Sitting in the silence of the store after the pre-teen lunch rush, Michael had a chance to think. His thoughts whirled dangerously close to what he had been telling himself again and again was only a wicked nightmare, brought on by a lack of sleep and the man he loved. He sighed to himself and set about reorganizing the front display for the third time that day.  
  
He occupied himself in any manner possible until the end of the day. The sun was just sinking below the skyline when he was locking up to head home to an empty apartment and more silence. Ben was at a conference for two weeks and Hunter was on a school trip.  
  
Michael had the apartment to himself but wanted none of it; he was lonely and horny and having to drive a sadly drunken Brian home twice last week had helped neither problem. He'd decided that his friend needed to be stripped to be tossed into bed when they were only 16 but now he couldn’t stop himself. He should, he knew, but unwrapping Brian was like exposing something so dangerously delicious you can’t look away. He had to feel the firm, smooth skin beneath his fingers, count the warm pulse against his palm and just, for one split second in an instant, dream of what he knew would never actually happen. It was an ache in his chest and groin, something that he was usually able to deny in the face of the wonderful man waiting for him at home.  
  
But the last time, when there had been no such man waiting, things had gotten wildly out of control and Michael only wished that he could forget everything that had happened. But he couldn’t. It was impossible to forget such an incredible feeling as being buried within his best friend; now that he had gotten a taste, the ache was unbearable, the thought always on his mind. He found himself daydreaming more often than not and Brian’s name was the first thing off his lips when he found his climax, alone in the recesses of his empty bed.  
  
Burying his face in his hands and biting his lips against crying out for the sins he couldn’t take away, the past he couldn’t change, Michael felt so nauseous he almost lost his mind. He wanted to fix it but didn’t even know where to start.  
  
One thing he did know was that it could never _ever_ happen again.  
  
No matter how much he wanted it to.


	4. Telephone.

  
Author's notes:

Figured I'd post while I had a new chapter; I'm just working on a future one. I'm glad you're enjoying it.

* * *

****_Telephone.  
_ Things were quiet, for once. He sat without moving and just let go of the fact that time was passing. His mind was relatively blank and he wanted nothing to interfere with that. His days had finally settled into a rather comforting numbness and no amount of unanswered phones or angry messages was about to change that. Vaguely the ping of a new email echoed against the walls but he didn’t even react subconsciously. He was still. He was stone and nothing could reach him. Just the way he had always wanted it.  
  
Without thinking, he dressed to seduce and left the loft, just as the phone was ringing for a final time.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
“It’s just, this isn’t like him, Vic,” he blurted, the words coming out rushed and worried. He was pacing around a suddenly too small apartment somewhere in the not-quite-slums-not-nearly-posh quarter of LA and wishing he were practically anywhere else, anywhere closer. A sigh echoed across the phone line and he fought back his frustration.  
  
“I know, Justin. I- When was the last time you talked to him?”  
  
“Um…” He stopped pacing to gnaw his bottom lip in concentration as worry and exhaustion washed over him once more. “It was about a week ago,” he admitted resignedly. “He cut me off when I asked how he was. He sounded tired.”  
  
The ensuing silence was like a heart stopping.  
  
“Justin, I think you need to come home,” Vic whispered.  
  
“Why? What’s wrong?” His voice was shrill with alarm. “Vic, what’s going on? No one will give me a straight answer. Michael just brushes me off and no one else has noticed much.”  
  
"Just come home.”  
  
Hanging up the phone left Justin’s mind reeling. He had no idea what he could do; all he knew was that he was scared for his lover. If something was wrong with Brian then he wanted to be there. Besides, it was obvious how much his friends were worth where Brian was concerned.   
  
As he was frantically shoving clothes into a backpack with half an eye out for his hailed cab, he suddenly found himself startled - maybe the reason Vic’s words stuck within his chest like a heart attack was because he already knew that something was wrong. He had felt something hanging over him from the last moments of the phone call to his lover. Now the threads holding him together were threatening to unravel.  
  
Dread came closer the nearer he got to the airport. He tried to calm himself with a drink on the plane but his nerves were vibrating loudly when his feet finally touched the Pittsburgh tarmac.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
The night was still as he lay with his face mashed into the mattress. His breathing was laboured, but with nausea, not passion. Babylon had been rich for plucking but the smack of flesh against his own was too reminiscent to be entirely pleasant. He managed to get off, as did the trick, but there was an emptiness in it that perturbed him. Instead, as soon as it could be managed without seeming too like the retreat it was, Brian had left, metaphorical tail between his legs.  
  
What he didn’t know as he was clambering into the Corvette, was that he had been spotted and followed. If he’d known, well, he didn’t know what he would have done, but it definitely would have involved more screaming and fighting. As it was, he had been so caught off guard that he’d barely resisted the blindfold or the ties. By the time he realised that it was happening again, he was bound, gagged and blind. He was helpless.  
  
It had gone on longer this time, the foreplay. A tongue laved across his skin until all he could do was whimper and try to draw away. Within his mind, his instincts to fight, claw and battle were heavily set against his knowledge that this was _Mikey_ , his best friend, who would never, ever intentionally hurt him. Right?  
  
There was no penetration this time, for which he was grateful. Instead, his so-called friend came across his chest after sucking him off. He shook with the intensity of his shame and made no attempt to move when his wrists and ankles were unbound. He lay still until the loft door rolled shut with a resounding thud, then took a shaky breath and rolled over to smother himself in the mattress before queasiness overwhelmed him completely.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
Heart pounding loudly in his ears, Justin slammed the door shut and fought back a scream. His best friend looked at him with something resembling surprise and concern but he had no stomach for it. Shaking his head and holding up a hand to stave off her inquiry, he stalked towards the room that had been his both post- and pre-Brian.  
  
“Justin-“ she blurted, hurrying after him. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you with-“  
  
“I don’t want to talk about it!” he cried, gasping when an open mouth only invited more nausea.  
  
She stopped for a second and then continued gently, “Justin, it’s not that I’m not glad to see you. I’m just surprised. Why aren’t you with Br-“  
  
“Don’t mention him,” he growled, glaring at her with a very pale, very hard look on his face. “I get a call from Vic,” he muttered, hands thrown in the air like he was helpless, “saying that I better get my ass home or I might lose Brian. So, frantic and terrified, what do I do? I come home to find him fucking some guy in the loft. We never really discussed it but I _told_ him I wasn’t in love with the idea of other men in our bed and…” He took a gaping breath and said more softly, “I was so scared, and to find him fucking some trick… it was a shock, you know?”  
  
Daphne only nodded sagely and steered him into the living room. Settling him on the couch, she grabbed them both a beer and a bag of chips before turning back on the movie he’d interrupted. The night passed without much talking and the phone didn’t ring once.


	5. Run.

  
Author's notes:  
   


* * *

**_Run._**  
He awoke slowly, conscious returning to life like sluggish swimmers resurfacing. His mind was blank when he finally was able to pull himself up from the mattress and into a scalding shower. His skin was pink and tender like raw flesh abused and he averted his gaze from the bathroom mirror.

“I made coffee,” came a call from the kitchen and he startled briefly in the time it took to realise it hadn't all been a bad dream and he wasn't still in LA. Instead he was in Daphne's apartment because Brian was being a dick. He only wished he was more surprised.  
  
“Thanks,” he managed to croak, instead of any number of the self-pitying obscenities that were clawing at his throat. Swallowing them forcefully, he wandered dazedly into the kitchen and sat to watch her move around the room.  
  
“I think you need to talk to him,” she admitted quietly as they sat in their coffee-revered silence. His glare was piercing but she soldiered on. “I mean, I never see him but I was on Liberty a couple days ago and I heard a couple queens talking about how he hasn't been to Babylon or the Baths in a good four days. Isn't that like some sort of record?”  
  
Justin heaved a sigh and reminded himself that he wasn't mad at Daphne. He was mad at Brian and at himself for ever thinking that they had a shot at any semblance of monogamy. They'd talked about it over Brian's last visit to LA and Justin could only remember him promising that he'd try, saying that he wanted to try. It still wasn't a daily declaration like some small part of him might admit to wanting, but for Brian Kinney it was something.  
  
They had agreed not to tell anyone and that's what hurt the most about this. It appeared that Brian thought he could continue tricking and, since none of the family knew, they wouldn't rat him out to Justin. Jealousy and hurt coiled like hot nausea in his gut and soured the coffee before it even reached his veins.  
  
“What is it?” his best friend asked softly, having watched his flickering expressions for the last few minutes.  
  
Another sigh slipped past him and he looked at her sadly. “Brian promised to try to cut down his tricking. I guess this just proves that isn't going to happen.”  
  
For a split instant she stared at him like he'd grown another head - or said he liked pussy - and then she blinked until things settled back to normal.  
  
Her mouth opened like she was going to try to comfort him, but instead she just swallowed and reminded him, “Vic wouldn't have told you to come home for no reason.”  
  
He ducked his head over the coffee mug instead of answering, wishing there were some sort of profound words written at the bottom of the cup. He didn’t find anything but bitter caffeine and scratched enamel.  
  
Fighting melancholy after Daphne had dashed off to her shift work, Justin found himself watching dark clouds broil on the horizon. They seemed fitting in one instant and the next he was snorting at himself for being so morose. Shaking his blond head, he rolled his eyes and picked up the phone.  
  
He held his breath while it rang at the other end.  
  
“Kinnetik,” came a distracted chirp.  
  
“Cynthia?” he asked hesitantly, remembering only too well when he’d been banned from Brian’s company. “Is he in?”  
  
“Justin?” Something like relief flooded over the phone line. “Just tell me. Is the cancer back?”  
  
He sat down so quickly he almost missed the couch. As it was, things shifted and spun alarmingly.  
  
“I- I don’t know,” he murmured, muscles slack with fear. In part he cursed himself for not thinking to call Cynthia before but mainly he was just concerned with getting to his lover. He took a deep breath to calm the uncertainty straining out of him and forced himself to say, “Cyn, put me through.”  
  
She hesitated like she’d refuse and then did so without another word. He could only sit and wait.  
  
“Daphne,” came the low growl, having looked at the number on the display since Cynthia seemed afraid to talk to him today. “What do you want? What’s wrong with Justin?”  
  
“Nothing,” he breathed, pulse rushing loudly in his ears. “What about you, Brian?”  
  
“Fuck,” was the only muttered response, followed by a muted rustle like he was shifting in his chair. Justin strained for any sound from the other man; he _knew_ something wasn’t right. He just didn’t want to have to face it.  
  
“Brian?” he inquired when nothing else was forthcoming. “Please, Brian, talk to me. What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing, Sunshine,” came the sneer but he was too attuned to miss the exhaustion behind it. “I’m fabulous.” There was a beat of silence and then, “What are you doing at Daphne’s?”  
  
“I had some business to take care of in the Pitts,” he lied easily, getting up to search for his coat as he spoke.  
  
The older man snorted his derision but made no other comment.  
  
“So, what do you want for dinner? Italian or Thai?” Forcing his tone light, Justin shoved an arm haphazardly into his sleeve and struggled to pull it on without sounding like he was.  
  
"Nothing,” was Brian’s immediate response. “I have to go. Business to run and all that.” He hung up before Justin could get a word in.  
  
Frowning down at the dial tone, Justin pocketed his keys and barely resisted slamming the door shut behind him. If there was one thing he knew it was that Brian never ran away and that had been as close to a retreat as anything.  
  
  
  
\---  
  
  
He sat for one long moment just staring at the phone and then stood without a sound. He wanted to wring Cynthia’s neck as he passed her worriedly-concerned countenance on the way out, but reminded himself that he didn’t have the energy to train a new assistant and there was probably no one else who would put up with his shit.  
  
Slamming glass doors wasn’t nearly as satisfying as metal ones, he decided, but knew going back to the loft wasn’t exactly an option. Justin would be sure to find him soon, if he wasn’t already there. Sighing tiredly and shaking his head to clear it, Brian revved the corvette and roared angrily out of Kinnetik’s VIP parking. He was less than pleased at how his day was panning out.  
  
First he’d awoken covered in come – none of it his own – then the art department had fucked up yet again and he’d had to spend his lunch hour fixing it. Now he had to miss an important meeting with Shaw Inc. just so he could avoid yet another person he wasn’t ready to face.  
  
“Stupid blond,” he muttered, turning onto the road and stopping short when he considered his options. The loft was out; he didn’t feel up to facing Melanie so Gus and the Munchers’ was out; Woody’s wasn’t open and neither was Babylon. He swallowed thickly and turned towards the park he’d been to with Lindsey and his son a few times.  
  
It turned out that the quiet murmur of kids in the sandbox was offset by the utter, dead silence in his head. Things seemed so crystal clear; everything was in some sort of super-sharp focus that made his head spin to look at. He sighed and shut his eyes, wishing yet again that he had just let them finish him off the first time. At least then he wouldn’t have fucked up so many other people’s lives in the meantime.  
  
When he finally felt ready to face Justin and cut him loose from the fucked-up mess that was his present state, he rose from the park bench and headed back to the loft. The back of his neck prickled with tension and he almost turned around numerous times but somehow always stayed pointed in the same direction. Unfortunately, he just didn’t know if it was the right one.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
He was hesitant to do this, not knowing the reception he could look forward to. A part of him knew that cornering Brian in the loft wasn’t the best move he could make but having spent the better part of the afternoon looking for the man, with his stomach one solid knot of tension, he was getting his answers tonight, come hell or high water. He knew that to pussyfoot around the man was to admit that he could see the weakness they both were hiding from. To treat him like a victim was to insult his strength and make him even more defensive than he normally was. Justin didn’t know what was going on but he knew that something was and he was determined to find out what.  
  
Steeling his shoulders he knocked on the door to the loft and contemplated using his keys to let himself in. He was just fishing them from his pocket when a voice startled him.  
  
“It’s polite to call first,” Brian told him, voice low and cold. Clamping his lips on an undignified squeak of surprise Justin glared at him for a measure before nodding.  
  
“Sure, but you would have just told me to fuck off.”  
  
“Now why would I do that, Sunshine?” he inquired calmly. Watching him lean languidly against the brick of the hallway, Justin’s heart sped up; there was no way he was mistaking the tension so feigned in that relaxed pose.  
  
“Because you’re avoiding me, is why,” was his retort. “Listen Brian-“  
  
“No you listen,” Brian snarled, practically forcing Justin back a step with his vehemence. “I don’t appreciate being stalked, _again_. If I’d wanted to see you, I would have invited you over when we spoke on the phone.”  
  
“Spoke on the phone? Are you dense, you practically-“  
  
“So good _night_ , Justin. I had a long day and I just want to unwind. Why don’t you go back to Daphne’s and leave me the fuck alone?”  
  
Justin stared at him for a good, long minute. Then he sighed and said, “I thought we had moved past this, Brian. I’m not leaving just because you’re not perfect.”  
  
He could almost see the emotions flickering behind Brian’s eyes like storm clouds brewing. He watched for as long as he could, waiting for things to settle into that unfortunately impressive and uncrackable mask like Brian’s expression always did. Only, composure seemed to elude him for once and he looked away from his lover’s searching gaze.  
  
“Just go, Justin,” Brian mumbled, pulling out his keys and trying to hurry through the process of fleeing behind his metal defenses.  
  
“No.”  
  
Brian looked up, eyes dark and bottomless, when Justin’s hand crept around his arm. Iridescent blue met turbulent hazel and just stayed there for a long moment.  
  
“I’m not running, Brian.”  
  
Hazel narrowed as he formulated a reply.  
  
“So why don’t _you_ stop.”  
  
His brain screeched to a halt and he took a slow, shuddering breath before pulling the loft’s door open and stepping inside. He barely stopped himself from rolling it shut behind him. Instead he just tried to brace himself for the moment Justin decided that he was too imperfect to forgive.


	6. Trauma.

  
Author's notes: "Our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real." - Hannibal, Red Dragon.  


* * *

****_Trauma.  
_ They sat and stared at each other for what seemed like days; it was only minutes but time stretches when tension pulls it.

Justin knew he must have looked like a fish each time his mouth gaped open to speak but he held himself back. He wanted Brian to be the first, for once. He had come all the way from LA, giving Brett some false excuse and knowing he was taking a risk. He had been anxious, frightened and on edge since hanging up with Vic. He had felt hot, cold and frozen in the span of not even twelve hours and he was tired. He wanted some answers and wasn’t leaving until he got them.  
  
He sat stonily and watched Brian cradle his beer, drawing absent patterns in the condensation as he avoided Justin’s gaze. They both knew they were waiting for him to say something but he didn’t seem to care. His throat was closed by god-only-knew-what and Justin’s intense scrutiny was doing nothing to relieve him.  
  
“Stop it,” he finally croaked, flashing at glare at the young blond before looking resolutely away.  
  
“Stop what?”  
  
“Staring at me.”  
  
“I am not.”  
  
He snorted. “Yes you are. You’re staring like you can force me to tell you whatever-the-fuck you think is wrong. But you’re mistaken because I don’t have to tell you a goddamn thing.”  
  
“So something _is_ wrong.”  
  
Brian just rolled his eyes and set about peeling the label from his lager.  
  
Half an hour later they were in the same place and Justin was just getting ready to throw something at his lover’s face when there was a knock at the loft door. He was startled when Brian’s body jerked and his face closed. It was like watching a drawbridge lifting up: every connection Brian had with the room, with the moment that he was in, was severed in an instant and his eyes became startlingly empty and dark.  
  
“You want me to get that?” the blond couldn’t stop himself from asking.  
  
Jerking at the sound of his voice and barely meeting his gaze, Brian gave a slight nod and stalked into the bedroom without a word. He barely slowed for a change of clothes on his way to the bathroom. Before he moved, Justin heard the bathroom door shut and the shower come blasting on.  
  
Holding his breath against whatever it was he felt was ready to crash down upon them, Justin hesitantly hauled the door open and found himself face to face with Michael.  
  
“Hey,” he breathed, relieved that Brian’s best friend was here. He was hoping that the man might be able to give him some insight into their friend’s sudden mental-absence. Something within him tightened almost painfully when, at the sight of him, there was a shift behind Michael’s eyes.  
  
“Hey,” was his absent reply. “Brian in?”  
  
Justin nodded, then grabbed his arm and pulled him back out into the hallway. Making sure to keep his voice low he demanded his answers. “Michael, I know you have to have noticed. What’s going on with Brian?”  
  
The man looked at him like he’d grown another head and he wondered what could have seemed so strange about the statement. It was obvious that Brian wasn’t his normal self; even the most unobservant queen seemed to have noticed. Surely Michael of all people, self-styled Kinney-guru extraordinaire, must have taken note of the extreme change in his best friend.  
  
Puzzled, Justin stared at him. “But-“  
  
“Look,” Michael backtracked. “I know he’s been missing you. I’ll come back later.” He turned to go but Justin caught his arm.  
  
“Michael, just tell me who the trick from last night was.” The blond found himself suddenly desperate to know all he could. He couldn’t explain it but found himself saying, “I think something must have happened.”  
  
For a split instant Justin was almost convinced that he saw fear in the older man’s eyes. It was quickly replaced by a refusal to meet his gaze.  
  
“Just some guy from Babylon,” Michael supplied, mumbling something further about work and hurrying off. He left Justin to mull over the changes he was seeing in the people he used to know as he waited for Brian to get out of the shower.  
  
“Michael was here,” were the first words past his lips when the bathroom door finally cracked open and steam billowed through the loft.  
  
He was unprepared for Brian’s reaction, not expecting his stony countenance to twist into a painful grimace as he suddenly began methodically stripping the sheets from the mattress. Silent with confusion, Justin watched his lover without stepping closer than the bottom step. His mouth fell open when the brunet began stuffing the sheets into a garbage bag he pulled from the back of the closet.  
  
“Brian-“ he began, stepping closer as a baffled frown threatened to split his face.  
  
He looked on as Brian startled and then faltered in his movements, as if he was only just registering that the other man was present at all. His eyes, when they finally turned towards Justin’s concerned gaze, were wide and so open the young blond almost fell into them.  
  
“Brian,” he began again, his voice choked with the tension tying them down. “What’s going on?”  
  
A hard hazel gaze watched him for a moment and then turned away to shove the bag back into the depths of the closet. Justin struggled to find something to say.  
  
“Get me a water?” Brian requested quietly, his voice hoarse and dry in the silence. He watched his blond lover and swallowed thickly. He felt strangely comforted by the intuition Justin showed in dealing with Michael but the thought of that man so close left him cold. Curling into the cushions on the couch he tucked his knees up to his chin and tried to focus on the harsh rasp of his own breathing. He was so intent on calming himself that he jumped when Justin touched his elbow gently with the water bottle.  
  
“Here,” the man murmured quietly, settling hesitantly at the opposite end of the couch. He was quiet for a long moment and then finally prodded, “Brian?”  
  
“Look,” the brunet sighed, taking a long swallow from the bottle. “I know that you-- you’ll probably want to leave after I’m finished but just let me finish and then… then do what you have to do.”  
  
He wouldn’t meet Justin’s gaze to see the concern there and flinched away when fingers tried to twine with his. Trying to keep his hurt hidden, Justin folded himself into a similar, comfortable position and trying to mollify himself with knowing he would soon have the answers he was seeking.  
  
His head spinning, Brian tried to find the start of this mess. A jumbled mass of words and memories was blocking his throat and he had a vague feeling that once started he might not be able to stop; that’s most of what stopped him from really wanting to get this confession started. He wouldn’t blame his lover for wanting to leave but that didn’t mean he actually wanted him to go.  
  
He took a shuddering breath, clamped down on his nausea and spat, “I got fucked, okay?”  
  
Justin stared at him, confused. He repeated it again, hating how inadequate the words remained; they couldn’t convey his self-disgust or his fear, his knowledge that this had to be his fault somehow. They were nothing compared to the ache in his body and in his chest. The words were nothing but they were all he had.  
  
“I got fucked.” He looked away but knew the blond was still confused.  
  
“You mean you fucked-“ the other man began but he shook his head.  
  
“No. _I_ got fucked.”  
  
“But you don’t bottom-“  
  
“I know.”  
  
“You never-“  
  
“I _know_. Jesus, Justin,” he threw his hands in the air as anger washed over him. He stood and began to pace angrily; he wouldn’t admit it. He wouldn’t say it. It would mean everything, break everything. He couldn’t let that be taken from him.  
  
He stopped pacing when Justin reached for his hand. His fingers lay limply in the grasp as he took in a slow breath.  
  
“It’s whatever you’re trying not to think it is,” Brian said lowly. “I got _fucked_ , Justin. Figuratively and literally. I came home from Babylon, completely smashed, and then the next thing I know…” His breath hitched and his reality shattered. “I tried to stop him,” he murmured, voice emotionless except for his wavering strength. “I tried but I couldn’t. And then last night…”  
  
He barely heard Justin’s pained gasp. “Last night?”  
  
Brian nodded absently. “I woke up covered in the bastard’s come.” He turned to Justin but couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I can think of better ways to wake up,” he snorted, swallowing the heart beating in his throat. “I keep telling myself to just forget about it but…”  
  
“But you can’t,” Justin supplied and he nodded.  
  
“But I can’t. It’s like everything’s a lie. Like I’m fucking seventeen again and they-“  
  
His eyes went wide as his body jerked with memory. Trying desperately to hold down his stomach as it leapt up his throat, he ripped his hand from Justin’s and fled to the bathroom. He was on his knees retching when the blond stumbled after him.  
  
“Brian-“ Justin hesitated, fingers shaking when they reached to comfort trembling flesh. He bit his lip when the brunet flinched away from him.  
  
“Justin, this- this wasn’t the first time.”  
  
Justin’s stomach dropped and he barely resisted the urge to push his lover out of the way and claim some corner of the toilet for himself. Instead he just, slowly and obviously, reached for the strong fingers he loved and bit back a sigh when his gesture was accepted.  
  
“I was seventeen,” the brunet mumbled, drool dripping down his chin that he swiped at half-heartedly. “Mik- We were at some party because it was the end of the year and Mi- It doesn’t matter why. We were just there and some people took offense to it. I mean, I wasn’t even fucking anyone but these jocks…” He shuddered and spat angrily into the toilet. “They cornered me in the garage and…”  
  
His eyes slid shut as he rested his cheek against the seat, his breath coming in hoarse little gasps. Justin held his breath and leant a little closer, straining to hear the other man, even though he found himself not really wanting to know.  
  
“I managed to get away after the second one,” Brian whispered, face deathly pale in the shadow of his memories. His throat bobbed angrily with his swallow. “I ran all the way to Debbie’s. I thought Vic would know what to do, but he didn’t. Neither of us did.”  
  
He stood shakily then, with Justin following just one step behind, his hands out in case his lover faltered. A glance to the mirror told him they were both pale, the past having wreaked its havoc and its agony.  
  
Brian sunk into the couch and buried his face in his hands, as much to keep from having to look at Justin as to hide from himself. He didn’t want to have to watch the younger man leave.  
  
“I worked really hard to get past it,” he admitted, thinking of all the tricks he’d topped to get rid of the feeling of useless vulnerability. “To just forget it ever happened and I managed it, more or less. But this… this just brings everything fucking back and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know. I just… Fuck.”  
  
A growl broke out of his throat as he threw the half-empty water bottle from the table to the far wall, a part of him wishing it had been glass. He stalked to the window and looked out, his shoulders a knot of tension and trembling. It was like a piece of him was waiting for the next blow to fall.


	7. Fear.

  
Author's notes: Sorry for the delay.  


* * *

****_Fear.  
_ Justin stood silent, feeling like his chest had been ripped open. He was caught between demanding how Brian could have possibly kept this from him and breaking down because he knew. If cancer hadn’t been enough to open Justin’s eyes to the reluctant insecurities in the man before him than nothing ever would have. As it was, he could only curse the man for thinking this would make him leave.  
  
“Brian-“ he breathed, taking a step forward without thought.  
  
“Don’t,” was the immediate, sharp retort. “You can leave. Just don’t tell me first.”  
  
“I’m not leaving.”  
  
“Why the fuck not?”   
  
He felt the words like fire across his jagged nerves.  
  
“Because I love you.”  
  
“You shouldn’t.” The man’s voice was dead, empty of everything that made it human, that made it _Brian_.  
  
“Why not? None of this changes who you are. You’re still-“  
  
“Stop, Sunshine,” came the sneer, like sarcasm was an offensive weapon. His shoulders dropped a degree as he continued tiredly, “This changes everything.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Justin took another step closer. “No.”  
  
“ _Yes_ ,” Brian retorted, voice rising sharply with his anger and his fear.  
  
“ _No_ ,” Justin fired back, his tone matching that of his partner as he neared him.  
  
“Fuck, Justin!” Brian screamed, his face finally shifting from apathy to feeling. “It changes _everything_. Everything. Don’t fucking tell me it’s nothing. It’s everything.”  
  
His chest was heaving as he stared at the slight blond, silently cursing him for being so calm when Brian felt like he was about to fly apart. He was trying so desperately to hold himself together but the more he struggled the more things slipped irreparably.  
  
Ever so slightly Justin nodded, holding his gaze without blinking until Brian began to turn away. He stopped when long, slender, artistic and oh-so-fucking- _gentle_ fingers held his face in place.  
  
His blond nodded again and blinked slowly.  
  
“It’s something,” he agreed, his voice soft in their silence. “But it’s not everything. That’s not who you are. You’re not some weak fucking victim, Brian. You’re stronger than that. I know you are.”  
  
The strength shining out of those steady blue eyes was enough to shake the brunet in places he’d thought unshakable. He bit his lip against breaking down but found himself sinking into his lover’s embrace. Arms wrapped around his trembling body and they clung to each other as everything washed over them and words failed once more to make it right.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
Watching him sleep was normally calming but as the faint hum of traffic filled the loft, the sound of his breathing did little to help him fall asleep. Rolling off the mattress and wishing the memories wouldn’t follow, Justin headed for his cigarettes and hopefully a little space to think.  
  
His mind was buzzing with a mixture of imagination and fact. It all left a sour taste in his mouth and he frowned, resting his forehead against the cool of the window. Silence stretched and wavered around him as he tried to make some sense of the jumble inside his skull.  
  
When nothing seemed to much more sensible after almost half a pack, he stubbed the cigarette out angrily and paced as quickly as he could without waking the sleeping man in the bedroom. He had a feeling that Brian hadn’t been sleeping too well lately, judging by how quickly he had succumbed in Justin’s arms.  
  
That thought almost brought a faint smile to his face. As much as he wanted to hate the older man for ever doubting him, the simple fact was that they needed each other. Brian might have scoffed at the idea of needing anyone, of being responsible himself for the wellbeing of someone else but that didn’t change the fact that it was how it was. Justin knew that he would do all he could for his lover and simply expected Brian to do the same.  
  
He sighed deeply and fought the sudden tears rolling in his gut like nausea. How could someone do this to him? It was the most animal of crimes. He felt sick just thinking about it, much less trying to imagine how Brian had coped this past week. Vaguely he knew Vic had once again been instrumental in keeping the brunet sane but the simple fact that he had told Justin to come home spoke of things being so much worse. He didn’t know why and a part of him balked at seriously considering any answers, but he knew that he would have to find them if they were really going to get through this. Now wasn’t the time to turn chickenshit. He had to be there for his man and he was going to be. If only he wasn’t so scared about what it all might mean.  
  
He knew that he had to try and get Brian talking about this. With the way his memories of Prom once sat like leadened fire in the back of his mind, he knew this could eat at a man until he was hollowed out by his experiences. The only thing they could do was face it and deal with it. No hiding. No running. No fear.  
  
His body jerked faintly at the sudden sound of feet slapping hardwood and he half-turned in time to see a slender body slink into the bathroom, shutting the door tightly behind it. Biting his bottom lip against making a noise to betray himself, Justin slipped back under the duvet and let out a slow breath. For tonight he was here; it was tomorrow he was worried about. In the light of day he would see lines and life on the face he loved that hadn’t been there a week before.  
  
He heard the toilet flush and the door pull open. He expected the click of the light but instead only heard his name like a half exalted plea, half pained cry.  
  
“Justin?”  
  
He turned slowly towards the silhouette of the other man, reaching out without thinking for his partner.  
  
“I thought I’d been dreaming,” came Brian’s whisper as feet hesitantly carried him closer. His voice was choked and his fingers trembled in the faint light from the streetlights and moon. “I didn’t think you’d be here,” he admitted, “that you’d come back or…or stay.” In the darkness it was safe to speak his mind, where the words would be swallowed by stars and never remembered.  
  
“I’m here,” Justin promised him in a breath, twining their fingers when he came close enough. His chest was unbearably tight until his brunet slid into the bed beside him and their bodies brushed together. “I’m here,” he repeated, faint wonder in his voice as he watched the dark light in his lover’s eyes flicker across his face.  
  
“You’re here,” Brian murmured, his thumb running hesitantly across an upturned cheekbone in the darkness. “Justin, I-“ he stopped and swallowed, like his courage had abandoned him.  
  
He hesitated, eyes still flickering over the face so open before his. He bit his bottom lip and then released it, unaware of how it glistened like secrets in the dark. Drawing in a slow breath he tightened his hold on Justin’s fingers and closed his eyes.  
  
“I’m glad you’re here.”  
  
Silence fell around them like the dead calm before day break.  
  
Hazel eyes opened slowly and took in the shy, lazy compassion in the darkened irises before him.  
  
“Me too.”  
  
They were quiet for the span of a moment or two before the truth once more slipped up behind them.  
  
“Do you… do you want to talk about it more?” Justin asked, tentative like he was afraid of what he might be unleashing.  
  
Brian’s immediate instinct was to shut him up with some sarcastic comment but at the moment he was so relieved that the blond hadn’t left that he was willing to do almost anything to get him to stay. He settled himself more comfortably on the pillow and shut his eyes.  
  
The silence stretched.  
  
Words dangled off his tongue but still he stopped. He knew that if he admitted _who_ … Justin might not find blame in him but the rest would. He knew that. That’s what he was so afraid of. That they’d blame him and that they’d be right.  
  
“It’s okay,” Justin’s voice was soft in the night and he relaxed slightly just at the sound of it. “Just tell me as much as you want to. I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
He gave the blond a rueful smile then, squeezing his fingers and expelling his breath lightly. A heartbeat passed and the words trickled out of him with little thought at all.  
  
"I never told anyone, aside from Vic, when it happened. I figured if I could just forget it had happened then it would be like it hadn’t. It would be like those pricks hadn’t tried to… to gang r-rape me.”  
  
He swallowed dryly and Justin took the opportunity to blink rapidly to clear his own misty expression. Shutting his blue eyes, he followed Brian’s example and waited for his partner to continue even though his questions were burning to get out.  
  
Brian chuffed a dry laugh. “I’ve never admitted that in so many words before.”  
  
Justin’s eyes snapped open and the older man caught the look.  
  
“I didn’t have to tell Vic what happened,” he confessed. “He took one look at me and guessed. He never knew the details but…. He knew enough to take me to get tested and stitches, and to hold off Debbie’s questions. She ended up assuming that I’d gotten into another fight and I didn’t bother to correct her. M-Michael never thought to ask where I disappeared to; I guess he just assumed I’d found some hot ass and then gone home.”  
  
His voice cracked on his best friend’s name and something within Justin’s chest tightened and broke. He wanted to stop his partner from continuing but like a train wreck or a bashing, he was powerless.  
  
“He never knew that I- that I got fucking raped.”  
  
Brian’s breath was hot when it puffed out against the face beside him.  
  
“Fuck, Justin,” he gasped, eyes suddenly open and wide, like he’d only now just realized. “I got fucking… Raped. Oh fuck. Twice. Three people. Fuck.”  
  
His face paled as his stomach heaved and it was only when he became aware of Justin’s hand softly stroking his back and shoulders that he realized he was once more hunched over the toilet bowl.  
  
“I should just move into the bathroom,” he groaned, dry heaving hoarsely.  
  
“Worse than radiation?” Justin inquired quietly, nodding when the brunet shook his head.  
  
“No. But still.” He blinked blearily up at his partner, exhausted but still trying to fight down his protesting stomach. “See why I don’t talk about shit?”  
  
He got a wry smile for his efforts and then a hand to his feet.  
  
“Deal with it as it happens and it won’t hurt so much when you do,” he was told instead, as they settled back down into the mattress.  
  
He rolled his eyes and huffed, “I’d rather have nothing to deal with.”  
  
“Me too,” Justin agreed immediately, tucking himself up against the body he had missed so sorely these past weeks.


	8. Return.

  
Author's notes: Short, I know. But this chapter was begging to be split in two. Besides, I'm anxious to see what you think of this without the rest of it.  


* * *

****_Return.  
_ He moaned softly, eyes squeezing shut to hold in the last vestiges of sleep and block out the sunlight sneaking through. Pulling the blankets up over his head, Michael was startled out of his grumbling by chuckling above him.

“Ben!” he squeaked, throwing himself upon the other man and kissing him happily. “I’m so glad you’re home,” he sighed, settling into the embrace.

He couldn’t tell his partner how truly happy he was; now he could put Brian out of his mind once and for all. He had experienced what practically all of Liberty had and while it had driven him to distraction this past week, he was determined to put it behind him. With Ben’s help he was sure he could do it.

“How was the conference?” he asked, settling onto the bed, the sheet draped modestly across his lap, as he watched Ben unpack his bag.

“Mmm, it was fine,” came the tired reply. “I’m glad to be home.”

“Want to show me how glad?” Michael purred, lying back seductively and smiling widely when Ben joined him. He sighed at the feel of soft lips caressing his neck and bare chest, squirming a little with the sensations building within him.

“Did you miss me?” Ben asked, his voice hoarse with lust for his partner as he pushed the sheet aside and trailed his lips lower.

“Mmm,” was his reply as Michael’s slight body arched and his eyes fluttered closed. “Mmm, yessss…” He groaned out Ben’s name as the other man caressing him lovingly.

Eyes made black with lust snapped open when the touches stopped.

“Ben?” he demanded, struggling to sit up as he stared at his lover. “Why’d you stop?”

Ben closed his mouth slowly, his expression still blank with shock.

“You said ‘ _Brian_ ’.”

He averted his face, stomach rolling with something sick like betrayal and hot like jealousy and anger.

Michael felt something flutter weakly and die within his chest. His heart dropped and he swallowed thickly.

“What? No I didn’t,” he protested feebly.

Not meeting his eye, Ben shook his head and withdrew. He pulled his shirt back on and stood, fingers fumbling absently as he fought to focus his gaze on something aside from the images in his spinning head.

“You did now and you did when you were dreaming. I thought it was just my imagination or something but…” His pallor worsened and if he’d been of the right mind, Michael would have been concerned. “You’ve been distant whenever I tried to talk to you this past week, Michael. You called out his name when you phoned me to- to- You called out his fucking name!”

He looked away from the bed, suddenly seeing Brian everywhere.

“How could you do this? How could you let him do this to us?”

His voice was soft but burned Michael’s skin as he looked at him one last time.

“I trusted the both of you. I was willing to forget your dreams and your obsession with him. Michael, I love you. But he still has this, this hold on you that I’ve never been able to compete with. Well, I can’t do it anymore, Michael. This is it. If you let him- let him… If you’ve been intimate like that… I just don’t know if I can get over it.”

“You’ve had sex with him!” Michael squeaked, his thoughts hazy with shame and sudden anger.

“Along with half of Pittsburgh,” the other man nodded, conceding the point. “But we both know that it wouldn’t just be sex between you two. Not for you.”

He sighed softly and grabbed his jacket.

“Ben!” Michael cried brokenly, reaching after his partner as the other man turned and fled the room. He hiccupped his frustration and disgrace, burrowing his face in the pillow and trying to block out the morning light. He was trying to make it all just a dream once more, but he was powerless to undo what know one truly knew he had done.

 

\---

 

With the door shut behind him, he stood dumbly for an instant before his knees buckled and he swayed dangerously. Reaching inside to the part of himself that had kept him struggling these years, even though the bouts of illness that left him more shaken than he was likely to admit, he steadied his shoulders and headed for the air outside, hoping for the opportunity to clear his head.

His thoughts were skating dangerously between insanity and horror. He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t stand it. He was in shock as to how it could have happened. He had trusted Michael, had trusted Brian with his partner. He knew that his husband still had feelings for the lanky brunet but had been content in the knowledge that nothing would come of it, that Brian was a man of principles, however skewed they remained.

He could have handled Michael’s dreams, his fantasies. Hell, even his pet obsessions and trivial jealousy. He could handle it because he knew that at the end of the day he was the one in Michael’s bed and on his mind. He could comfort himself knowing that he knew his lover’s body in a way that Brian never had, had never wanted to.

But he had wanted and he knew. Brian Kinney, the man who could seduce anyone he wanted without really trying. Ben struggled to sort out how this could have possibly happened but deep down he knew that all Brian would have had to do was ask.

So he must have. For all his emotionless mantra, Ben knew Brian had to be missing Justin, maybe had even wanted something more than a casual fuck. So he had turned to the one person in town who could give him more than that: Michael. And Michael, with Ben out of town and Brian so close… Unconsciously, his fingers tightened into fists in his pockets. His place in Michael’s bed had been stolen by a man who could have any man he wanted.

Ben let out a slow breath and tried to remind himself that getting worked up would solve nothing, it could undo nothing. With each exhale he only found himself becoming more incensed at the brunet who had always held a piece of the man he was married to and now had given him exactly what he’d always wanted. A part of what Ben was really afraid of was what this might mean.

He fought a losing battle against his indignant outrage. Michael was his, to love and to hold. To cherish forever. Not to let other men take advantage of when he was out of town on business. His eyes flickered angrily with the storm clouds building in the sky.

Brian Kinney had wronged his partner. He had taken advantage of the naivety that was inherent in his Michael when they were both lonely. He couldn’t just let that stand.

Head still reeling, Ben got up from the park bench and passed without noticing through the city.


	9. Battle.

****_Battle.  
_ Blinking blearily in the insistent sunlight, Michael stared at the ringing phone in his hand and a second later hastily brought it up to his ear.

“Michael!” Justin demanded, voice tight with strain. “What the fuck is wrong with Ben? Get over here and call off your damn partner; he’s like a pissed rhino in heat.”

Wondering at the analogy and still half-asleep, Michael dazedly assured him he’d be at the loft as soon as possible before he had time to realise. It struck him as he was pulling on his jeans that he was about to face the two people in his life that he had, literally and figuratively, fucked without thinking. He flinched at the headache already beginning behind his eyes and pulled on a shirt without looking; he only noticed as he was getting out of the taxi on the corner of Tremont that the come stain on the front of it looked awfully familiar. It came to him on the ride up in the elevator that this was the shirt that he’d been wearing two days before when he’d visited his best friend a second time.

Resisting the urge to bang his head off the door instead of knocking, he had raised his fist to do just that when he noticed that it was open already.

“Back the fuck off,” he heard Justin yell just as he was stepping tentatively over the threshold.

Shocked, Michael could only stand and watch his life unravel in Technicolor before him.

“I will not,” Ben snapped, looking around the blond bull dog to the apathetic brunet on the couch behind him. His eyes were burning with betrayal, his jaw set with anger.

“Look Ben, I don’t know what the hell you think Brian did but-“

“I _think_ ,” the professor sneered shortly, “that that slut slept with my partner.”

Justin had just raised his hand to attack in his lover’s defence when they all heard the broken laugh Brian couldn’t contain. The blonde perched himself on the edge of the white leather without another word, looking deeply into his partner’s eyes. What he saw did nothing to reassure him; they were as empty as whenever anyone brought up the prom or his father and family. Reaching to squeeze his fingers, Justin found himself growing more worried when he barely received an acknowledgement. He kept one wary eye on his brunet as he turned to the one before him.

“Brian wouldn’t do that.”

He was amazed that his voice sounded so strong and confident. Some small part of him was trying to hide away from the large piece of the puzzle that he was missing but didn’t want to face.

“Then explain how it is that Michael sighed out his name like a lover?! I was only gone for two weeks, you whore,” Ben spat, angrily leaning over the brunet. “You took advantage of him.”

“I didn’t,” came the clear protest, his voice flat but unbroken.

“Then explain it.”

“Ask _him_ ,” Brian snorted, sounding remarkably like himself as he turned his burning gaze towards the man frozen just within the threshold. Only Justin felt the faint trembling of his muscles as a week of hiding came to a head. The young man watching him so closely shut his eyes against the breaking in his chest.

“Michael?” Ben asked, his tone almost painfully confused. “Tell me. What’s going on?” His voice cracked like he wasn’t sure he really wanted to hear it.

“I don’t know what you want to hear,” Michael retorted, his mind spinning as he fought to come up with a lie to save him. He wasn’t ready; he couldn’t face the full impact of what he had done to his friend. He might never be ready.

“The truth, Michael.”

It was Brian’s cool voice that reached him in his twisted lies. He blinked but had to look away from the pain-filled hazel that looked right through him.

“The- the truth?” he licked his suddenly chapped lips, still stalling for the time to lie.

Brian nodded, his gaze piercing. ‘ _Mikey, please’_ , he mouthed, face twisting into an almost painful smirk at Michael’s involuntary shudder.

In that instant Michael realised that Brian more than remembered the night everything had been broken. He had prayed most fervently that the brunet would retain nothing of their night together, so that it could just be conveniently forgotten and swept away. He hadn’t counted on Brian remembering how he had plead, on knowing how exactly to cut him up inside.

Something snapped inside his chest as he stared into the eyes of his best friend.

“Everyone else knew what it was like,” he retorted, voice rising sharply in a misguided attempt to explain himself. “They knew.”

Brian shook his head, the other two in the room forgotten as he faced the man who had betrayed him so completely.

“No.”

“Everyone else in the Pitts knows what kind of a lay you are!” he squeaked. “Except me. Me. Your best friend for over sixteen years and you wouldn’t give me what you gave strangers.”

“You know I never bottom, Michael,” was Brian’s reply, his voice so soft and cold Justin was sure he saw ice forming in his breath.

“You do for him!” he cried, pointing to the young blond.

Brian half-turned and cocked a smile at his young lover, who failed to find comfort in how pained it was.

“Not the point.”

“It’s exactly the point. I wanted what everyone else got. I wanted to fuck Brian Kinney. So what? Everyone wants to. Everyone gets to.”

Brian couldn’t stop himself from leaning back, away from the man who kept coming closer. He flailed a hand behind him, towards the couch for support but fought to keep his face impassive and gaze steady. His body relaxed imperceptibly when a hand found his and wrapped tightly around it.

“When _I_ want it, Michael. Not when I’m so drugged out of my mind that I barely realise what’s happening. Not when you tie up my fucking arms and ankles. Not when you make me _bleed_.”

He was trembling with barely suppressed rage and disgust, his fingers white as they clung to Justin’s.

Outside the loft, thunder cracked theatrically and made them all jump in surprise. Brian swallowed the words threatening to spill out and stared at the man before him, a man he no longer knew.

“Just get out,” he sighed, body slumping against his blond tiredly. “Just leave me alone.”

“But Brian-“ Michael began, something weakening within him. The anger drained out of him, leaving only childhood lust, pain and desperation. “I didn’t mean- You have to know that I would never hurt-”

Squeezing his fingers tightly, Justin pulled away to step between his lover and the man he had never before considered dangerous. His eyes flashed with his anger and disgust as he steadied himself to bodily push this threat out of his face, out of the loft and out of his partner’s life.

“Get out, Michael,” he growled. His voice was quiet but there was no mistaking the threat in the tone. “You’re lucky he hasn’t called the police.”

Gulping his next words, Michael’s gaze flickered across them all, lingering on Brian’s down-turned face before he mouthed the word ‘sorry’ like it could undo anything at all. Without another sound, he turned and fled.

To Brian, it felt like all the air in the loft left with him. He began to gasp, his chest tight as things caught up with him. His eyes stung viciously and his entire body was shaking.

“Justin,” he whimpered, wishing he weren’t about to fall apart but knowing the blond would be there to help pick him up if he did.

“Okay, Brian,” came the reassuring mumble as he was helped up onto the newly purchased sheets spread crimson across the mattress. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

He nodded weakly; with his vision swimming, there was nothing else he could do. He lay back and tried to stop his muscles from involuntarily flinching, as he listened to his lover pad quietly across the loft.

“Ben,” Justin murmured softly, reaching hesitantly to the man staring stonily out the large picture window.

“Is he going to be all right, Justin?” Ben inquired, his face shadowed by the truth oppressing them all.

“I think so. I hope so.”

That got a nod as Ben glanced at him quickly. “You take care of him. I can let myself out.”

Justin nodded in return, turning and heading quickly back to his lover’s side. Ben stood for a moment listening to them comfort each other, then pulled the loft’s door shut behind him.

“Brian?” Justin breathed, settling slowly onto the edge of the mattress. “How’re you doing?”

“I’ve been better,” the brunet gasped, eyes still tightly shut. “Are they gone?”

“Yeah. You need anything?”

Brian shook his head, fingers lacing tightly with those of his lover. He was struggling to handle having been so close to Michael again, knowing what he’d done, having to spell it out for the other man. It shook something deep within him to see his ‘friend’s face once more. He had almost been able to separate his idea of the man he knew and his knowledge of his… attacker. This had just thrust the two so violently together he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to pry them apart.

Helplessly, Justin watched his lover tremble with suppressed reaction. He knew what confrontation could feel like, having had his share of them with a certain bat-wielding maniac. He ached to make it all go away but could only hope that maybe this would help in some small measure towards getting Brian back. He had faced his demons and now, maybe, they could begin to put them firmly into the past and keep them there.

When Justin started to get up, to give Brian some space, he found himself unable to pull his fingers from the other man’s grip.

“Don’t go,” Brian demanded, his voice low. “I don’t want to think. I just lost… I just lost my best friend because… because he…”

He barked out what could have been a laugh or a strangled sob, neither of them was very sure.

“How could he have done this, Justin? How?”

“I don’t know,” was the only thing to say because he didn’t. Not for one instant had he ever entertained the thought that mild-mannered Michael could be capable of this. Against anyone, much less his much-beloved best friend. It shook him deeply and left him feeling useless in the face of his lover’s pleas for answers.

He had no more answers than the ability to take it all back.

Sighing and slipping into bed beside his trembling partner, he leaned against the pillows and wrapped his arms around the man curling up close next to him. He had no idea what to do next. He didn’t even know how he was supposed to feel when he was only numb and tired. All he felt was sick.

At his side, Brian exhaled loudly, fingers curling into his blonde’s side.

“I want to hate him,” he mumbled, unaware the words were slipping out of his mind’s tenuous grasp. “But I can’t. Not when it’s my fault. It has to be my fault. I lead him on. I let this happen. He wouldn’t do this. Not unless I…”

“Shhh,” was all Justin had the strength to murmur, threading his fingers through sweat-dampened hair as he tried to calm him.

Eventually they both fell into fitful slumber, exhausted by the effort of facing what they only wanted to run from.


	10. Silence.

****_Silence.  
_ It was quiet in the loft in the early morning sunlight. It was noiseless in the bathroom as they showered separately. And it was silent in the jeep on the way to the diner.  
  
Justin glanced at the man behind the wheel and felt the words scrambling up his throat but swallowed them. It wasn’t worth it. Whatever support he might want to express or questions he might wish answered, it wasn’t worth what it would do to their morning. Things were strained enough in the wake of the confrontation the previous day.  
  
A part of Justin physically ached to see his partner look so utterly emotionless because he knew beneath that thick mask lurked utter turmoil. He just hoped that he would eventually be able to figure out a way to erase the guilt that burned there. How Brian could seriously entertain that this was his fault was beyond Justin. He wanted to kill the man for suggesting it while simultaneously blinking to clear the thick, stinging emotion from his gaze.  
  
Watching Brian park the vehicle out of the corner of his eye, Justin saw the faint tremor in his lover’s body and reached wordlessly for his hand. They squeezed each other’s fingers and then pulled apart to climb out of the car, squinting in the glare of the sunlight and in the face of reality.  
  
The sounds of the diner slapped them in the face as the door opened with a chime, but everything slowed and stopped with a sudden cry from the redhead barrelling towards them.  
  
“You shit,” she admonished, eyes locked on the slender brunet, her gaze cowing him. “What the fuck did you do to him? He left. My baby left. And so help me, I know it’s your fault.”  
  
Justin’s jaw hit the floor with a resounding thud. He had known there was no way Michael would tell him mother but he had forgotten to expect this. Behind him he felt Brian cringe away from her attack and had just braced himself to defend his man when a soft voice echoed from over his shoulder.  
  
“It wasn’t what _I_ did, Deb.”  
  
Justin didn’t have to look at his lover to know how pale he was, how tired he looked. He only hoped that Debbie would be able to see that. When she continued to glare at him, it seemed that she couldn’t.  
  
“Don’t bullshit me, kid. I know you. What the fuck did you do?”  
  
Biting his lip and glancing warily around the diner to see that it was mainly empty, Brian inched around his blond and stood a little closer to his adopted mother.  
  
“Deb, I…” His breath was shaky when he hesitated. He didn’t want to tell her. He didn’t want to shatter anyone else’s opinion of the man he’d once called friend. He couldn’t break the part of her that loved him.  
  
Shaking his head, he backed away. He tried to tell himself that he wasn’t running but it was useless. He was being a coward and that angered him. The last thing he wanted to be was weak but all he really felt was tired. He wanted this to be done, to be over with. He wanted it all to go away, for Justin to make it all go away.  
  
Chancing a glance at his partner, he sighed and found himself unable to meet the intense, unreadable gaze. Ever so slightly he shook his head and strode out of the establishment. If he was being honest with himself, he knew he was running.  
  
Justin watched the man he loved stride without a sound down the sidewalk, straining away from the people close enough to touch him and shying away from even the caress of the air on his skin. He knew those feelings of vulnerability and fragility like they were his own. Because they had been; right after the bashing he had been stripped and laid open like he hadn’t known was possible. Only this ran deeper than just a bat to the head; this ran deeper than rape. This cut deeper than a dull blade.  
  
Sighing, the blond pushed past a motionless Debbie and put in his order with Kiki. He sat hesitantly on a stool to wait for it, a part of him ready to run when he heard the snap of gum over his shoulder.  
  
“It’s what I think it is, isn’t it?” Deb murmured, finding her way onto the seat beside him, ready to voice what had been on the tip of her tongue for a week. “He finally picked up the wrong guy.”  
  
Justin’s voice came out hard and tight. “You make it sound like he wanted it to happen.”  
  
“You tell me,” she snorted, “the way he carried on.”  
  
“Jesus _fuck_ , Debbie!” the blond spitfire finally cracked. “You think he asked for this? To have someone tie him down and fuck him? _No one_ asks for that.”  
  
He was trembling slightly when his body sunk back into the seat, eyes darting frantically to see if his order was ready yet. He only wanted to get out of the diner and find Brian before the man got himself into deeper trouble. God only knew where his head was right then.  
  
“I know, Sunshine,” Deb was cooing, trying to sound soothing to the wrong man. “But, I mean, you have to admit that Brian-“  
  
“I don’t have to admit shit,” he retorted, biting his tongue against the words threatening to escape him.  
  
 _Rape_.  
 _Trust_.  
 _Betrayal_.  
 _Michael_.  
  
“Screw this,” he muttered, deciding he wasn’t nearly so hungry anymore and knowing if he stayed he’d do something they might all regret. Getting up, he threw money on the counter for the aborted order. “Look Deb,” he leant so close he could smell what he’d once believed was concern for Brian, overlaid by emotions better left for her own son. “Leave him alone. The last thing he needs is you telling him it’s his fault.”  
  
She rolled her eyes like he was obvious. “I wouldn’t do that-“  
  
“You just fucking did.”  
  
She was for once speechless as he left the diner without looking back. His face was set in a scowl as he moved; not even the cloudless sky could make a dint in the black mood surrounding him. He sat motionless in the jeep for a minute, realizing he didn’t know where to start looking for his aching lover. Starting the vehicle, he hesitated and then pulled out his cell phone to dial as he drove.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
His mind was blank. His eyes were unfocused as they stared ahead, unseeing. Beyond him the sound of some old TV program wafted through the screen door and across the ragged grass but not even that reached the locked room within his mind where he stood raging. He screamed wordlessly into the blackness within his chest, wishing just once that it would reverberate with something more than stillness. He never heard anything in response aside from the lapping of hate upon his insides.  
  
His knees curled up to his chin and his shoulders shook faintly. He felt nauseous with self-disgust. His skin had been dirtied beyond cleanliness and there was nothing he could do. He was once again below what he had built himself up to be. He had tried to climb past the mold of the child his father didn’t want, the gawky loner the football players laughed at and used when no one was looking. He wanted to be more than just broken but whenever he thought he had begun to put it behind him, things shattered and left him less than he’d had before.  
  
At the beginning, he had still had his innocence, and then his youth the second time. He had the resilience to get through it, to get past it, to hide it.  
  
But now. Now cancer had stripped him of his invincibility, age had worn away his youth and his beauty. This time he had even less to fall back on.  
  
Somewhere in there the fault had to lie with him. He was sure of it.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
He was in shock. Complete and utter shock. Even time couldn’t soften the emotions battering against him. Horror battled with anger, struggling with disgust and a betrayal so absolute he felt nauseous. His fingers were trembling when they sought to cup his face, to hold himself from falling apart.  
  
He opened his mouth to scream something, to break the silence around him but there was nothing. There were no words he could tell himself that would make it go away. There was nothing he could do for Brian or for Justin to help them through this. There was nothing he could say to Michael to take away what he had done.  
  
As much as Ben wanted to rage at everyone involved, a small part of him knew that somewhere inside his husband lay a bleeding man. Some innocent piece of him must have been torn up by the truth of a split second’s bad decision. There had to be some guilt within him. There just had to be.  
  
If there wasn’t then the man Ben loved had never truly existed at all. And that was almost the hardest to take.  
  
He knew all about bad decisions. Having to live with the fact that his HIV status was the result of one, he knew about making the wrong choice. If he could just simplify the situation down to those black and white, swallowable facts, then he could face this. He could stand by the pieces of the man he loved and help him realise what he had done, help him do what he could to put back together the man he had shattered.  
  
Looking up at the door to the apartment they shared, Ben squared his shoulders and held his breath. He wasn’t sure if this was really a decision he could make; if it was the one that he should. He only knew that he couldn’t give up on the man he knew until he had every single fact and tormented emotion straight within his head. Then, and only then, would he feel comfortable making the choice to leave or to stay and fight for whatever they had left.  
  
He pulled out his keys before he hesitated, and unlocked the door, stepping inside. He was an inch over the threshold when he realised something was wrong. Something was missing from the very air of the apartment.  
  
“Michael?” he queried, voice rising sharply as he stalked around the table towards the bedroom. Before he got there, a part of him knew it would be empty of Michael’s things. He found himself both disappointed and relieved to find it so.  
  
He had thought he knew his partner better than that. He had thought that the man would be able to take responsibility for what he had done to another’s life, to their lives.  
  
As he was sinking slowly to the mattress they had shared, Ben found himself wondering if he had ever really known the man at all.


	11. Rage.

  
Author's notes:

Since I sort of feel like I'm butchering this whole thing, I'm going to suggest again that you also check out Jane's fic. It really is a fantastic read: <http://jane2005.livejournal.com/>

* * *

****_Rage.  
_ Vic stood quietly on the edge of forever, watching him. He hesitated on the steps, able to see the faint outline of shoulders shivering. He knew he should tell the man that his partner was looking for him and would be coming to find him but when soft sounds reached him, he stopped.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he heard, whispered in a low tone so unmistakably broken it hurt. “I want to hate you, Mikey. I do.”  
  
A hiccup echoed around the yard and Vic jumped at the suddenness of the sound.  
  
“I know it’s my fault that you did what you did,” Brian continued, unaware he was being watched over. “But… You should have been strong enough for both of us. You were when we were kids; you had to be, sometimes. But not when I really needed you. Not when people wanted me. Why couldn’t you protect me then, Mikey?”  
  
He sniffed, wiping away emotions with the back of his hand, and Vic ached for that little boy.  
  
“You stood by me, you helped me. But this… Memories don’t make up for this. Nothing fucking makes up for this. Nothing. Even if you didn’t… didn’t know about those bastards in twelfth grade, you still don’t do this. Not to me. Not to someone you say you love. Not to fucking _anyone_ , but especially not to someone you love.”  
  
He sat up a little straighter, face glistening wetly in the shadows and sunlight flickering over him.  
  
“You said you fucking _loved me_ , Mikey,” he groaned at the sky. “You said you always would. But you did this… How the fuck could you do this to me?”  
  
Anger made his voice a little stronger and Vic found himself vaguely comforted by the returning strength.  
  
“I trusted you,” came the sniff. “I loved you, Mikey. But this… Not this. Not fucking this. Not from you. I just… I can’t. We’re done. There’s no going back, Mikey. I just don’t understand _why_.”  
  
He looked at the sky like it had his answers. Only, the hidden stars were curiously silent in response.  
  
“I know your mom will never believe me. She’ll always think that it’s my fault and she’s probably right. No, I know she is. I’m just the slut of Liberty Avenue,” he sneered, voice low and hollow. “It’s a surprise this hasn’t happened a million times over. I probably even deserved it. Everyone’s going to say that. I know they will. And they won’t be so wrong, will they, Mikey? But is that an excuse? I don’t know if I can give you that much.”  
  
He hesitated and the sound of faint, echoing footsteps caused Vic to turn. He heard voices murmuring by the door and knew his partner must be seeing to Justin. He bit his lip against the urge to scream and strained again to hear Brian’s secret thoughts. He had showed up to the house without a word, barely looking at either of the two older men except to move past them to the small, sheltered garden they kept. He’d been there for over half an hour but neither had the heart to try and reach him.  
  
“Fuck you!” came a sudden, cracked scream.  
  
Startled, Vic spun in time to watch the shadows scatter and recoil.  
  
“Fuck you, Mikey, for doing this. For making me the bad guy when you were the one to-“ He took a gaping breath. “And fuck you, Deb, for blaming me. Fuck you, Jack, for being right that no one would just love me without wanting something.”  
  
He was standing now, raging like something was being torn out of him.  
  
“Fuck you, Derrick and you too, Andrew, for being the first ones. For breaking something that’s unfixable. Fuck you, Joan, for never giving a shit about the bruises and the blood. Fuck you, Coach, for using me, telling me what I wanted to hear. For never meaning a word.”  
  
He sank slowly to his knees, the fight seeping out of him.  
  
“And fuck you, Justin.”  
  
The soft, pained gasp over his shoulder startled Vic’s heart and he reached without looking to try and comfort the blond.  
  
“Fuck you for giving me a reason not to just give up. I could fucking kill myself, if not for you and Gus. It would all be over, done. _This_ is why I fought it, because I knew that some day… Some day this would all just fucking come out and I’d have to deal with disappointing you. With fucking up Gus’s life. With fucking up yours. I’m just too fucking tired to try and fix it.”  
  
Justin was quivering with emotion, his entire body vibrating with a need to go to his partner and sudden, deep fear.  
  
“Michael,” Vic sighed. “I’d been afraid of that.”  
  
Barely sparing him a glance, but grateful he’d broken the spell that held him in place, Justin stepped hesitantly onto the lawn.  
  
“Brian,” he called, steeling himself for another outburst.  
  
“How long have you been there?” was the response he got instead, Brian’s voice hoarse from shouting.  
  
“Long enough.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
The brunet nodded, rising slowly to his feet. “Let’s go home then.”  
  
Following the hand that grasped his own, Justin breathed a faint sigh of relief when the porch light didn’t shatter their hold on one another. If anything, Brian’s grip on him tightened, pulling him closer under his own scrutiny.  
  
“I didn’t mean it, Justin,” he breathed against the younger man’s hair when they were safely inside the loft once more.  
  
“Yes you did,” Justin returned.  
  
“I don’t hate you.”  
  
“I know. But a part of you is mad.”  
  
“A big part,” Brian sighed, running fingers through his hair as he sat slowly on the couch and pulled his partner into his arms.  
  
“I know.”  
  
Looking down into his lover’s eyes, Justin sighed softly and lay a quick peck on the upturned lips. He rested their foreheads together and bit his lip.  
  
“This sucks, Brian.”  
  
“Tell me about it.”  
  
“What do we do now?”  
  
Brian snorted, giving Justin a ‘duh’ look. “You think I know? If I’d been thinking we wouldn’t even be in this situation in the first place. Nobody’s life would be fucked up and you’d still be in LA, becoming a ‘stah’.”  
  
He moved like he was going to get up but Justin shook his head and kept his grip.  
  
“Don’t think you can push me away, asshole. I was going to come home in two months anyway. The movie’s practically finished and they really don’t need me there anymore.”  
  
“But-“  
  
He shook his head again. “You’re an idiot. I _want_ to be here, Brian. With you and for you. Just let me, okay? I thought we were past this.”  
  
“I-“ The older man sighed, changing his mind. “If I have to be…”  
  
“You have to be,” was the reply, trying to lighten the tone by teasing like they weren’t splintering with tension.  
  
Watching the emotions flickering in his lover’s gaze, Justin pried himself from the embrace.  
  
“C’mon. Up.”  
  
Raising an eyebrow at him, Brian rose and watched as he sauntered to the bedroom.  
  
“You need to relax, Brian. I’m going to give you a massage.”  
  
“The fuck you are,” he snorted. “Last time you pulled a muscle in my back and I could barely fuck for two days.”  
  
Justin rolled his eyes and retorted without thinking, “I had some instruction in LA. I promise this time you won’t get hurt. Besides, last time are you sure it wasn’t because of how enthusiastically you were begging me to fuck you? I’d think that would be more strenuous for an old man.”  
  
Glaring at him, Brian flopped onto the bed without another word and settled himself comfortably.  
  
“Get to it,” he urged, “I want my massage.”  
  
"Yes sir,” Justin retorted, smiling softly as he dug into one of the bedside drawers for the flavoured massage oil. He was just warming it on his hands before applying, when Brian’s words froze him.  
  
“Don’t think this will lead to fucking, Sunshine.”  
  
His tone was barely more than a growl and Justin bit his lip. He tried not to be hurt or surprised that Brian assumed that was his goal. Sex might have been hovering somewhere in the periphery of his mind but the details hadn’t even begun to factor into his mindset. His main aim, for the moment, was to relax his lover. Anything beyond that he would have considered a bonus.  
  
Instead of responding, he just kissed Brian’s shoulder lightly and began the massage. By the time he had to stop because of his gimp hand, the older brunet was a pile of mush beneath him. He seemed on the very edge of a relaxed sleep and, smiling to himself, Justin kissed the skin across his shoulders lightly, just to feel the warmth beneath his lips.  
  
He was just settling himself down beside his lover for a well deserved nap when he became aware of someone knocking on the loft’s door. Frowning, he hurried to answer it before whoever it was could awaken Brian.  
  
He was surprised to see Melanie and Gus on the other side.  
  
“Hi,” he greeted, mind still vaguely fuzzy with the comfort of Brian’s warmth beside him and the lull after dealing with so many emotions before lunch.  
  
“Hi,” she returned, pushing past him and setting Gus down on the sofa. “Listen, can you watch him for the afternoon? Linds and I need to take Jenny-Rebecca to get her immunizations and he’s been fussing all morning. I figured that it would be a great opportunity for- Speak of the devil.”  
  
She turned just as Brian was coming down the steps from the bedroom, his face soft and maskless, relaxed from the massage and trying not to think.  
  
“You look surprisingly content,” she observed, her voice almost accusing as she looked at him intently, gaze shifting to Justin. Finally she laughed, startling them both. “Seems like even the Ultimate Top likes it up the ass every now and again.”  
  
“What?” Justin cried, surprised beyond measure. “What are you talking about, Mel?”  
  
“I’ve seen that look before,” she smirked, missing the shudder that ran down Brian’s spine. “Although, I have to say, Justin, it’s usually you wearing it.”  
  
The blond continued to stare at her, his mind trying to catch up with the conversation. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Brian falter midstep, then continue without a word to the Italian leather where his son was perched.  
  
With a glare, Justin steered Melanie from the loft. The tension was back as his teeth ground together and he only hoped he could manage to avoid the threatening headache. He’d thought he might be able to hold it off for the afternoon, for both of them, if the real world would just keep its distance.  
  
“What time will you be back to pick up Gus?”  
  
“Justin, what-“  
  
“What time will you be back to pick up Gus?” he repeated, gaze flinty when she met it.  
  
Realizing she would get no answers, and also that her wife and daughter were still waiting downstairs in the car, Mel conceded the point. They could always pry later for their answers, if Lindsey didn’t already know.  
  
“Around five.”  
  
Justin nodded and turned without another word. The sound of the loft door rolling shut echoed loudly in the hallway.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
Staring at the phone in his hand, he fumbled for the button to shut off that horrible dial tone. His voice had cracked when he left his message, giving out partway through his husband’s name.  
  
“Where are you?” he asked the empty room, his shoulders sinking inward. He needed to talk to his partner, to think about this, to… His mind was spinning so badly he wasn’t entirely sure what he needed but talking to Michael seemed to be high on that list.  
  
“Ben, sweetie? Are you in here?”  
  
He barely roused from his stumbling thoughts when Emmett poked his head in the front door, a frown etched across his features.  
  
"Honey!” the queen cried, hurrying over to the larger man. “What’s wrong? Where are all Michael’s things?”  
  
Time slowed when Ben flinched at the name. Emmett drew himself slowly to his full height. His face was as serious as it had ever been.  
  
"Ben,” he intoned. “What’s going on?”  
  
“He’s gone, Em,” the man sighed, still staring at the phone in his hand.  
  
“Gone? What? Why?” Feeling horribly out of the loop, Emmett settled onto the bed beside the professor and draped an arm around his broad shoulders. Closing his eyes for a long moment, Ben shook his head. He stood slowly, shrugging off Emmett’s arm as he did so.  
  
“Sorry, Emmett but it’s not my place to tell.”  
  
Bewildered, the tall brunet watched him leave for some unknown destination, his feet dragging like the world was holding him down.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
“I don’t see what you think you’re going to accomplish by doing this,” she admitted as they loaded JR into the elevator.  
  
“Look Linds,” Mel replied evenly, glancing down to make sure their daughter was comfortably situated. “If the cancer’s back I think we have a right to know. What else could it possibly be, to get Justin back here so ahead of schedule and in full bulldog mode?”  
  
“I just don’t think the offensive is a good position to take.”  
  
“If you’ve got any other ideas of how to get information out of that asshole then feel free to tell me.”  
  
Lindsey glared at her like only a blond lesbian WASP could. Mel withered a little under the look.  
  
“I just want to be prepared,” she qualified, any response on her wife’s part being cut short by their arrival on the loft’s floor.  
  
“Just be careful in front of Gus,” Lindsey hissed quickly, pasting a smile on her face as the door was pulled open.  
  
“You’re early,” Justin told them, glancing behind him and lowering his voice. “They’re just laying down.”  
  
“What, he can keep up with a horny teenager but one little boy wears him out?” Mel smirked, biting her tongue at the glares she received. ‘What?’ she asked soundlessly of Lindsey when Justin turned his back briefly.  
  
Lindsey just shook her head and looked vaguely disappointed in her partner.  
  
“Have a seat,” Justin suggested quietly, indicating the couch as he scurried to the bedroom.  
  
“You can’t seriously think he wouldn’t have told us if it was cancer,” Lindsey admonished in a low tone, leaning close to her partner under the guise of checking on a slumbering Jenny-Rebecca.  
  
“It’s not like he’s been that involved with anyone lately,” Melanie retorted, smoothing back the hair from her daughter’s face gently.  
  
Lindsey opened her mouth but snapped it shut when a tired-looking Brian came down the steps from the bedroom with his son tucked carefully in his arms. He blinked slowly at the both of them and then lay a soft kiss on Gus’s head; the boy only wormed closer to the heartbeat next to him.  
  
“Thanks for watching him, Brian,” Lindsey smiled, ever the WASP as she shot Mel a reproachful look that clearly said they would leave their questions for another time.  
  
For his part, Brian just ducked his head in a nod and smiled down at his little boy. Reluctantly he handed him off to Lindsey and wrapped those arms around his own chest as he watched them all leave. When they were gone he turned without a word and returned to the bedroom, pulling Gus’s pillow into a tight embrace.  
  
Biting his tongue against saying anything, Justin followed after him and sat at the edge of the mattress.  
  
“I didn’t have a nightmare.”  
  
Brian’s voice was muffled by fabric and feathers but Justin was close enough to hear anything. He nodded instead of saying anything; he knew only too well the dreams that had plagued his lover recently. Gus’s presence had seemed to serve as a buffer against the shadows haunting them both.  
  
“Lay with me?”  
  
He sounded like such a little broken boy Justin would have been hard pressed to refuse him, if he had ever wanted to. Instead he just wrapped himself around his lover and held him as tightly as he held the pillow. Ignoring the daylight still covering them, they both fought to let go of their thoughts and slip into a healing rest.  
  
Justin’s slumber was disturbed by the murmuring tenseness of the man beside him. Brian’s entire body radiated stress as his skin shivered. He whimpered somewhere within his chest and fought against the shadows attempting to claim him.  
  
“Brian.”  
  
Justin’s own voice cracked as he reached for his lover.  
  
“Brian, please. Wake up.”  
  
“Mikey,” the brunet moaned, curling tighter into himself. “No. _No_!”  
  
Giving up the hope of waking him completely, Justin draped himself as closely as he could around the other man. The contact seemed to calm him and the blond found himself holding on until both their heartbeats slowed to something reasonable.  
  
“Damnit, Michael,” he sighed, weaving his fingers through the damp brunet hair against his shoulder. “I really, really hate you right now.”  
  
Brian trembled faintly in reaction to his dreams and Justin decided that he’d never looked younger or more vulnerable than he did curled so tightly against his blond lover in the dying afternoon.


	12. Deal.

  
Author's notes: Sorry for the delay. I took a week off to visit my parents but now I'm back and hopefully you all are too.

Another note: I have no idea how old Gus should be...

Oh, and Jane's put her fic up here on bjfic: [Negation](http://astele.co.uk/BJfic/Chapter/Details/viewstory.php?sid=10202). I suggest you check it out.  


* * *

**_Deal.  
_** “Mel? It’s Ben. I was wondering if you’d heard from Michael recently.” He sighed, only able to begin to imagine the gossip his inquiry could stir up.

“No, sorry. I haven’t seen much of him lately.”

He nodded to himself; that had been his fear.

“Thanks Mel.” His heart sank but he tried to keep it from his voice. “Let me know if you talk to him?”

“Sure, I’ll tell Lindsey too.”

“Thanks.”

Hanging up the phone, Melanie turned to her little babe and frowned down at the sleeping infant. Things were definitely turning strange in their state of Liberty. She looked up quickly at the sound of the front door opening and frowned when a reluctantly familiar shadow slipped inside.

“That key’s for emergencies,” she snapped.

“I want to see my son.” His voice was hoarse, like his throat was worn.

She narrowed her gaze at him for a long moment and then sighed. Shaking her head, she checked on JR quickly and stepped into the hallway with him, speaking lowly and quickly.

“He’s at daycare, Brian. Where he usually goes when Lindsey has an emergency at work and I’m busy with Jenny.”

“I thought you were home to take care of-“

“I’m home for Jenny-Rebecca, not your son.”

Biting his lip, he nodded and turned for the door. He was gone before she had time to say another word.

 

\---

 

“Brian,” Debbie called cautiously, watching the man closely as he walked into the diner with his son. In the harsh afternoon light, she was hard-pressed to deny the deep, haunted lines around his eyes.

He nodded to her warily as he slid into a booth across from Gus, picking up a menu to hide behind. Talking quietly to his boy, he tried to ignore the colourful waitress until absolutely necessary.

“Can I talk to you a minute?”

She was greeted by a cold, guarded look.

“I’m here with my son.” Brian began to turn away, dismissing her once more even though it caused something to tighten and strain painfully within his chest. He only wanted to know what it was about him that fucked up everything.

“Brian.”

After a long, stubborn silence, he sighed and slid over, but not before giving her a warning glare and nodding towards his son. She sat quickly, before the offer could be revoked.

“Where’s Justin?” she inquired, not knowing where else to start. He shrugged like it didn’t really matter and she forced a quick laugh to dispel her unease at his indifference. “It’s just that he’s been such a bulldog lately, getting on everyone’s case-“

“You didn’t really bother me to discuss my partner, did you?”

His voice was as cold as she’d ever heard it and in the back of her mind Debbie found herself wondering if maybe Justin was right, maybe she had finally laid more blame upon Brian than he would shoulder.

“I, uh, no. Look, Brian. I know about-“

They both glanced involuntarily at the child colouring obliviously in his borrowed, grown-up sketch book.

“So?”

“So, I want to know what happened. You need to talk to the police, report it.”

“I don’t have to report shit, Deb.”

He fought a groan; clenching his teeth so hard they almost splintered was reviving the stress headache he’d had for the last three days. It had been his hope that spending an afternoon with his son, ignoring everything except a view of the world through the eyes of a four year old, would help to alleviate it.

“Yes you do,” she was saying when he paid her attention again. “It’s your fucking duty as a part of this community to report anything that could affect the other members.”

“Who gives a shit about other people?”

“I know you’ve been through a lot, Brian…”

His gaze narrowed. “No I haven’t.”

“…But if this guy is on the loose then you _have_ to tell the police!”

“He left town, Deb. Problem solved.”

His head was starting to throb painfully, making it difficult to choose the words falling from his tongue.

“You know who it was?!” she shrieked and he winced at the piercing sound.

“So what? It doesn’t change anything.”

“He should be arrested. If you know who it was, you can tell the police, have him picked up.”

He snorted. It could never be that easy. If she knew he would be turning in her little boy, there would be no way in hell that she would be suggesting it. She would never speak to him again, much less continue to love him in whatever way it was that she did now.

“You have to, Brian.”

She was insisting again, causing his headache to grow exponentially just with the concern in her eyes that he knew would disappear in an instant.

“Leave me alone, Deb.”

“Brian, I’ve known you since you were 14. I can tell when something hits you hard and this obviously have. I just think that it would be a good idea if you were to-“

“Deb!” he snapped, temper breaking with his cresting pain. “Leave it!”

“Brian Aiden Kinney, now you listen to me, you little asshole.” Her finger was in his face threateningly as she leaned close. “You’re going to tell me who’s done this to you so we can get the bastard and put him where he belongs.”

“No.”

“Yes. Tell me, Brian.”

“Fuck no.”

“Tell me or, so help me…”

“No.”

Concern for all the Liberty boys, her own son included prominently, caused her to lose sight of the man’s rising temper as she pushed for her own gains. If there was a dangerous man in her neighbourhood, she wanted him off the street, damnit, and in police custody. Brian’s stubborn Irish pride be damned.

“Tell me. I deserve to know.”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yes I do.”

“No you don’t.”

“Tell me who the fuck raped you, Brian!” she shrieked, only realising in the silence that settled over the diner that she had spoken the forbidden words out loud. Everyone was staring at them, including Gus, his eyes wide and bottomless in their intensity.

“You really want to know?”

He leant close, gaze empty and voice dispassionately cold. She shivered and Gus bit his lip, gaping at his Dada wordlessly.

“You really need to know? You deserve to know who fucked me?”

Frightened of what was happening and the man who had grown into a stranger before her eyes, Debbie did the only thing she could think of, she nodded.

“It was your son.”

She stared at him, not comprehending. He leant a little closer, hazel dark with pain and anger.

“Michael raped me.”

He held her eyes long enough so she knew he was serious. Shaking her head, she recoiled from him, backing away and fleeing the words she was sure had to be lies.

Brian sat silently, time passing without his notice. Eventually he blinked, took a shuddering breath and turned to his son.

“Come on, sonny boy. Let’s go.”

When the door swung shut behind them, it seemed like the entire world was still for an instant before everything exploded in a rush of gossip, theories and shock. For her part, Deb sat soundless in the staff room, Brian’s words still ringing in her ears.

 

\---

 

Gus was quiet during the drive, keeping his gaze trained on his father’s face reflected in the rear-view mirror. Brian was thankful for the silence, fighting vainly to hold down the pain in his head until they got to the loft. The gulf between them seemed large and impassable as neither attempted it; it wasn’t until he was sitting beside his son on the sofa that Brian even realised how much of their conversation that Gus had understood.

“Dada.”

He nodded absently, eyes still shut against the light he couldn’t turn off because it chased the shadows away.

“Is Uncle Mikey why you’re sad?”

Hazel fluttered open to meet a gaze so much like his own. Biting his bottom lip, Brian frowned at his son as his heart skipped painfully.

“What?”

Moving closer, the little boy wrapped himself around his father. “Why are you sad?” he asked the heart beating below his ear.

“What makes you think Dada’s sad, sonny boy?”

Without thinking, Brian’s fingers threaded through the soft auburn hair curled against him, although he would never admit who he was trying to calm or comfort.

“Because,” came the serious reply. Gus took one of the larger hands holding him and demonstrated a tight grip. He turned his face upwards, eyes still dark and troubled. “Why?”

Brian didn’t know what to tell him; he had heard too much already.

“Because,” he returned, smirking faintly when Gus scrunched his nose and poked him in the stomach.

“Why, Dada?”

Brian sighed. “It’s complicated, Gus.”

The boy shook his head, burrowing a little deeper into the tight embrace.

“You’re sad. Why?”

“Someone close to your Dada…” He faltered and wanted to stop but an insistent prod to his stomach kept him talking. “He did something not very nice and it hurt Dada. He’s sad because he cared about this person a whole lot and they- they took advantage of that to do what they wanted.”

“Why?”

He was at a loss. How do you explain to a four year old about betrayal and rape, alcohol, drugs and lust? He opened his mouth to flounder through it but was saved by the timely intervention of Justin.

“Because, Gus,” the young man said quietly, moving from the doorway where he had stood listening, to crouch by the couch. “Some people just take what they want. Do you remember when Anderson took your favourite car at school? Remember how mad and upset you were because he just took it without asking?”

The boy nodded, mumbling something into his father’s stomach.

“What, sonny boy? We couldn’t hear you.”

“Get him to give it back.”

The ability to follow preschool logic eluded Brian. “Give what back?”

“What Uncle Mikey took that made you sad.” Gus turned to Justin, “Fix it.”

The blond grimaced wryly. “It’s not that easy, Gus.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

Gus frowned, shaking his head and turning back into Brian’s embrace. “Fix it.”

Glancing up, Justin met Brian’s gaze and raised an eyebrow. This certainly wasn’t the scene he’d expected to find upon returning home. Brian half-shrugged in reply before turning his attention back to the stubborn child on his lap.

“Gus,” he prodded reluctantly. “You’ve got to get up, sonny boy. Your mom will be wanting you home, I bet.”

“No.”

“No? You have to go home eventually.”

“Not until you fix it.”

Rolling his eyes, Brian sat up a little straighter, manoeuvring Gus until he could see the young boy’s expression.

“You know things aren’t that easy, Gus. I wish they were but sometimes they’re not.”

“I don’t want you sad, Dada.”

Biting his bottom lip, Brian nodded. “I know. I’m working on it.”

Grabbing for Justin, Gus added, “You help.”

The blond nodded, his eyes still locked on Brian’s.

“Good.”

Climbing down, the boy started to get ready, like he was confident now that the adults could fix this mess; his job was done. With a half smile, Brian followed after him.

“I can pick up something on the way back,” the tall brunet suggested to his partner. “Thai or Chinese?”

“Pizza,” Gus added, his face crinkled with the concentration of tying his shoes.

“How about just the special from the diner?” Justin inquired, flipping on the TV. He looked up when there was no response. “What?”

“I’m not going to the diner.”

“Brian, what-“

“Dada and Gamma Deb made angry faces,” came the smooth explanation and Justin was quick to notice the look of pain that passed over his lover’s face.

“Angry faces?” he murmured, moving a little closer. Brian nodded, mask settling into place even as he wrapped a tight arm around the blonde’s shoulders and drew him close.

“So… Thai, Chinese or pizza?” Brian finally repeated, pushing him back a little, tongue firmly in cheek.

“Surprise me.”

The brunet nodded, raising an eyebrow when Justin mouthed, ‘Then we talk.’ He rolled his eyes dramatically but half-shrugged instead of refuting it outright. Throwing the blond a cheeky kiss over his shoulder, Brian continued to focus single-mindedly on his son so he didn’t have to think, didn’t have to know that things were irreversibly and irrevocably fucked.

He sighed on the way back to the loft, food cooling on the seat beside him. Without distraction his mind was rolling over the confrontation that afternoon and even a blaring radio was helpless to stop it. He knew that by now the majority of Liberty would know about Debbie’s little slip in the diner that afternoon; what he didn’t know was how he could ever be expected to show his face again. The way he saw it, people had two possible reactions: they either pitied him or saw it as his fault. What they wouldn’t all know was that it was also Michael’s fault; he had a feeling only those in the thick of it all would see that little tidbit coming.

In the back of his mind he was just waiting for Emmett and Mel to find their way over to the loft to ream him out for once more fucking with Michael’s life. But the visit he was truly dreading would have to come in the form of Debbie, once the shock wore off. Vaguely he wondered if it would be possible to have Vic present for that attack; he, at least, seemed adept at holding off the worst his sister had to throw and Brian had a feeling by that time he might need all the help in his corner that he could get.

He was startled from his dreary thoughts by the tone of his cell cutting across the music. He cut the noise and answered the phone just as he was pulling into his parking on Tremont.

“What?”

“Brian?”

He began to shake, unable to stop the icy cold from spreading through him.

“Brian, I just… I’m sorry. But please, please d-don’t turn me in. I promise, I’ll never see you again; I’ll stay away. Just don’t… I won’t be able to see Jenny-Rebecca. They’ll take my rights and I… please.”

Shuddery breaths echoed loudly across the phone line but the trembling brunet still couldn’t seem to move or speak.

“Brian, please. I love you.”

Breathing hoarsely, Brian stabbed at the off button, disconnecting the call violently and dropping the phone onto the floor of the vehicle. He stared at it for a long moment as if it were the devil himself. He fought valiantly to get his body back under his control, disconcerted by his own reaction to a single, familiar voice on the phone.

“Fuck you,” he breathed, throwing the cell one more glare as he shut the car off and grabbed the take-out.

As the interior light of the car dimmed and shut off, the cell began to ring once more. The same number came up but sat unanswered in the abandoned jeep.

Brian’s mind was mercifully blank, as was his expression, as he sagged against the elevator wall on the way up. He would deal with it, he just didn’t want to think about it. His fingers curled fitfully around the food but he barely reacted at all to the sights around him.


	13. Talk.

****_Talk.  
_ “I just want to talk to him,” the man sighed, picking absently at his breakfast. “To know that he’s all right.”

“Have you tried his cell? I’m sure he took it with him, honey.”

Emmett lay a comforting touch on the professor’s hand but it did little to dispel the man’s anxiety.

“Everything’s just so messed up. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about it. I mean, do I take his side, knowing what he’s done? It’s not right but, so help me, I still love him.”

He looked so lost, Emmett didn’t have the heart to inject his own casual cynicism into the conversation. Instead he just glanced around the diner, hoping for some inspiration and was startled to see part of their conversation fodder saunter through the front door.

“I know,” Brian was saying shortly into his cell as he stopped by their booth to set his briefcase down. “No, I _know_ , Justin. I can’t let them win, play the victim and that shit. Trust me, I’m very aware… Fuck that! No, seriously. I’m not talking to her. End of discussion.” He snorted angrily. “Look, Justin, I have to go. Emmett and Ben are staring at me. Seriously. You want to talk to them?” He laughed softly. “I know. Yeah, I know you do. Just - let me do this my way. Hey, I’m in the diner right now. That’s got to count for something.”

He rolled his eyes to the men in the booth and smirked at the phone.

“Of course I’m aware that she’s not working today. Why do you think I was willing to pick up the fucking lemon bars? Now let me get on with my shit of a day, will you, Sunshine? Some of us have to be at work. …Yeah, you too. Later.”

He hung up and flopped onto the bench seat beside Emmett, who stared at him. Mask firmly in place, Brian signalled the waitress and ordered half a dozen lemon bars along with very strong coffee. He smirked and sipped the liquid, turning slowly to the other men in the booth.

“Uh, hello? Weren’t you two talking before I graced you by sitting down?”

Swallowing quickly, Emmett nodded but still didn’t say anything.

The brunet turned to Ben for some conversation, “What about?”

Avoiding his gaze, the professor replied, “Michael.”

“Ah.” His chest tightened painfully but he shoved the feeling aside; at least enough so nothing showed on his face. “What about the ol’ boy?”

“He isn’t returning my calls,” Ben told him, face still averted.

“Here,” Brian replied, fishing out his cell phone and tossing it onto the table between them. “He won’t stop fucking calling me.”

As if on cue, the phone began to ring, cutting the air like lightning. In his Armani suit, Brian fought a shiver and took a slow sip of his horrendous coffee. He really should complain about the service, he decided, this coffee was for shit.

Hesitating only momentarily, Ben reached for the call with trembling fingers and snapped it open.

“Michael?”

“Ben? I - What are you doing answering Brian’s phone?”

“What are you doing _calling_ it?”

He sighed when silence was the only reply.

“Where are you, Michael? Tell me that you’re all right.” He ignored Brian’s derisive snort, turning all his attention to the tinny voice in his ear.

“Ben, I just… I had to get away. You have to understand that. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I thought the best thing I could do was leave.”

Brian huffed softly, Michael’s retort having been shrill enough for them all to hear. He muttered something about “running away, not facing shit,” as he downed the rest of his coffee and stood up. Emmett stared at him, gaze drawn to the enigma he was and the tension running through him.

“Either tell him to stop calling or keep the phone,” the tall advertising agent told Ben, throwing a bill down on the table as he picked up his box of lemon bars. He left before either of them could move.

Blinking slowly, Ben turned back to the phone.

“Michael?”

“Y-yes Ben.”

“Why, Michael?”

“What?”

“Why. I need to know why. Why you did this. Why you left. Why you couldn’t get over Brian and just be with me. Why, Michael?”

His voice was steady but tired. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t that confused. He just wanted to know.

“I- I don’t know, Ben,” was the soft reply. “I wanted to. A million times, I just wanted to forget him but… But he’s _Brian Kinney_. He was everything and I… I guess I just couldn’t take it anymore. He was there and you weren’t; you weren’t there to remind me why I didn’t want him, didn’t need him, why I didn’t have him.”

“Don’t blame me.”

“I’m not! I’m not, I swear. It’s just… It’s just that when I had you next to me, I didn’t need him. I didn’t need anyone else. But you were away and he was there and…”

“And you weren’t thinking.”

“And I wasn’t thinking.”

Ben sighed. “Can I see you?”

Michael’s breath caught and it let out slowly.

“Yeah. Yeah, come see me.”

Taking the look on Ben’s face as his cue, Emmett patted his friend gently on the wrist and got up from the booth. He waved away the waitress and gathered his things to follow a neat little redhead out the door.

Slipping on his sunglasses and casting a glance at all the faces passing in the sunlight, he for a brief instant wondered how many had heard the latest dirty gossip whipping around Liberty and who, if anyone, had given it – or Brian – a second thought. Realizing who he was talking about, he decided that probably not too many of them.

“Emmett.”

Startled from his thoughts, the queen looked quickly around. He finally spotted the car that had pulled up beside him and lifted his glasses to see Brian staring at him.

“Let me use your cell for a minute.”

Bewildered, Emmett handed it to him and he dialled quickly.

“It’s me... I’m borrowing it.” Behind his own sunglasses, Brian rolled his eyes. “I gave it to Ben. Because he won’t stop fucking calling me, that’s why! I’m sick of talking to that fuck.” He exhaled slowly and said softly, “I just didn’t want you calling it. I- I’ve got your fucking lemon bars. You want me to drop them off? …Oh. Okay. No, I’ll see you there in a minute. Yeah, okay. Bye Justin.”

Glancing up at Emmett’s face before looking away, Brian held out the pink phone like it was suddenly burning his fingers. He mumbled his thanks and turned the car onto the street, merging into traffic.

The slender man in the leopard print pants just shook his head and continued on. He kept one eye on the people moving around him, oblivious to the deep emotions he was sure simmered just below the cool exterior of one Brian Kinney. Another part of his attention remained on the hot stud sauntering ahead of him.

 

\---

 

“You just gave him your phone?”

Justin stared at his partner in surprise. It was obvious Michael’s calls were bothering the man more than he would admit.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just change the number?” he quipped, taking another bite of lemon bar.

Brian shrugged. “This way he can bother Ben.”

“Did he call you last night?”

Hazel eyes turned away.

“Brian. Tell me. Did he call you between when you left to take Gus home and when you got back to the loft? You looked pretty-“

“No.” The brunet shook his head almost violently. “We’re not talking about this, Justin. I wasn’t ‘shaken’ or ‘upset’ or any other emotional state that you think I should be. I just… wasn’t.”

“I was _going_ to say,” Justin retorted, shifting a little closer to his lover. “That you seemed distracted and blank.”

“Blank?”

“Fine. You want to get technical? Emotionally unavailable. Like you’d just checked out of the situation. Especially…” He bit back a sigh. “Especially your eyes.”

“My… eyes?”

Again hazel avoided him, like a part of him was aware of how expressive he was to Justin.

“I’m on to you, remember?”

They shared an almost unconscious smirk.

“I’m pretty good at catching on to what others are too used to ignoring.” He raised an eyebrow at the older man, taking another bite of lemon bar. “Including you.”

“Oh fuck you!” Brian snorted, forcing amusement to hide the growing unease tightening within his chest.

Setting the plate on the low coffee table, Justin grabbed his drink and was careful to keep his hands busy so Brian wouldn’t think he would make any overly emotional gestures towards him. Sometimes personal space was key.

“Look, laugh all you want but you know that I’m on to you. You fucking _know_ that, Brian. You knew it before all this shit and you certainly know that I’m here for you now.” Intense cobalt grabbed hazel and held on tightly as Justin drew in a quick breath. “So tell me what’s going on with these calls. What happened last night to have you acting like you did right after I got back from LA?”

Looking down at the hands clasped tightly in his lap like they could strangle each other to make this go away, Brian whispered, “He said he loved me.”

Air caught painfully in the blonde’s throat but he swallowed past it, keeping his gaze trained on his partner.

“Fuck him.”

A turbulently dark gaze flew upwards to take in Justin’s hard expression. Without thinking, he reached out to grab the fingers straining towards him without moving an inch.

“Fuck him, Brian. I mean that, _fuck him_. He’s gone. Let Debbie worry about him; let Ben love him; let Emmett gossip about him. And we – yes, the both of us – will not let him affect us anymore. Just _fuck_ him.”

The brunet ducked his head like it was on a string tied to the weight of the world.

“Fuck him,” he murmured, rolling the syllables within his dry mouth until they tasted right. Spitting them out left little of the bitter taste he had grown accustomed to. “Fuck him,” came a little stronger and his head came up a fraction.

Growing bolder, Justin moved so their knees were brushing and his fingers were twined tightly with his lover’s. He repeated the mantra in round, moving closer each time those hazel eyes rose. He smiled hesitantly and almost shattered with relief when it was returned.

“Fuck him,” Brian breathed, the words flickering across the flushed cheek brushing his lips. His eyes crossed the closer he moved but he strained to keep them open, to see the words sinking into the reality around him.

“Fuck him,” Justin agreed, fighting valiantly to keep from throwing himself at his lover. His body was vibrating with need but he wanted to do everything he could to keep from turning Brian into the skittish colt he had become when before intimacy had been attempted. Anything more than the most impersonal of acts found him tense and jumpy, something that hurt Justin more than he cared to admit.

“Fuck him.”

The words were little more than a puff of air against overheated lips, slipping inside to be swallowed and disappear. Dropping his head just a bit, Brian covered Justin’s lips with his own, the caress almost hesitant. The dip of a tongue inside for a taste remembered was all it took to break the spell and before either was aware of what was happening, they were half naked and rutting against each other desperately.

“Brian,” the blond gasped, fingers threading forcefully through deep chestnut locks.

“Justin,” came the answering grunt, their bodies moving together in a primal, jerky rhythm.

Panting turned to moans as thick coral lips stalked down porcelain skin flushed with desire. His tongue was just trailing over where waistband meets slender hipbone when there was a sudden rush of cooler air into the room and a startled cry of, “Oh my god, I am _so_ sorry!”

“Who was that?” Justin demanded when the circulating air returned the use of a few brain cells.

“New temp.”

Leaning his forehead against the heaving chest below him, Brian swallowed thickly in a vain attempt to regroup.

“Think she’ll recover?” Absently Justin began to play with his lover’s hair as they relaxed into each other, hearts still racing with passion aborted.

“Don’t really care,” was all the answer he received as Brian nuzzled closer and wrapped his slight blond within an encompassing embrace.


	14. Move.

****_Move.  
_ “I’m moving.”  
  
Six and a half weeks to the day that Brian gave away his cell phone, Ben dropped by the loft.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Hunter and I are moving.”  
  
Brian stared at him for a long, long moment before turning away.  
  
“You’re going after him,” he said, no room for anger in the tired acceptance filling his voice.  
  
“I am,” the tall professor agreed softly, stepping closer to his tense friend.  
  
The slender brunet nodded without shifting his gaze from the world below his window.  
  
“Do what you have to.”  
  
“I’m trying to.”  
  
Brian’s head ducked in a nod again and he wondered if Justin knew.  
  
“How does the Littlest - Hunter feel about this?”  
  
“He, ah,” Ben coughed to clear his throat; this was harder than he’d thought it would be. “He’s okay with it. A chance to start over at school and everything.”  
  
“Right. Deb know?”  
  
His voice was tense and for a brief moment Ben debated lying to him; things with Deb just hadn’t been the same, no matter how everyone tried to coax them together again. Some things just ran too deeply. Brian ached for the unconditional acceptance he had known better than to expect and Deb was wracked with guilt over the love she still held for the both of them. The walls between them were topped with barbed wire and no one knew how to scale them.  
  
“She knows.”  
  
“Emmett and Ted?”  
  
Ben murmured his agreement, his eyes flickering to the man in stone beside him before gazing out at the city they presided over like kings and angels.  
  
“And Lindsey and Mel, too.”  
  
“Justin?”  
  
“Well, I’d thought that he would be here…”  
  
“He’s painting at his studio. Got a call from some gallery in New York; they’re interested and he’s stressing.”  
  
“Do you want to tell him?”  
  
Brian shook his head. He might not know the proper etiquette for telling your partner that your ex-best friend’s husband and their adopted hustler are moving out of state, but he didn’t much fancy being the first to face the blonde’s reaction. Besides, he still hadn’t figured out his own reaction; confusion sizzled through him, leaving his guts a mass of wriggling tension and his spine ramrod straight. His head was hurting already and it was only a little after 9 a.m. on a Sunday.  
  
“Okay. I just… I’m sorry Brian,” Ben sighed, his breath striking the cool window in front of him and obscuring the view. “For everything.”  
  
“Yeah,” came the low response. “Me too.”  
  
  
\---  
  
  
“Brian?” Justin called as he pulled the creaking door closed behind him. He got no response but wasn’t overly surprised. His own head was still somewhat muddled from Ben’s announcement; he had no idea how Brian would be taking it.  
  
When he saw the note propped against the fruit bowl on the counter, something relaxed within him. He nodded to himself, eyes skimming over the words.  
  
 _‘2.30. Back for dinner. Thai? – B.’  
  
_ Taking off the sweater he’d worn against the chill between buses, Justin decided to have a shower, then a movie and just relax away the kinks painting for hours had put into his system. Before he put that plan into action, however, he picked up the portable phone.  
  
“Greek,” he told the voicemail he had expected to get; Dr. Evans makes everyone shut off their cells and pagers, even Brian. With a smile he disconnected the call and slid beneath the hot water, almost groaning with relief when discomfort and pain faded into the background.  
  
As his body’s complaints receded into the background, Justin’s thoughts crept forward and he shook his head in a vain attempt to dislodge them – and to avoid getting shampoo in his eyes.  
  
He wasn’t sure how to feel about Ben and Hunter leaving. On one hand he knew how it felt to follow the man you loved, to feel like you loved them enough to forgive them anything. But on the other, he was just plain pissed off. It seemed like the man was taking Michael’s side in something that was bigger than them, that was bigger than all of them. The violent dissolution of Brian and Michael’s relationship had mutated the way the rest of them related to each other but Justin still had a nagging feeling that few, if any, gave Brian much credit where the act itself was concerned. And he was sure that he wouldn’t be mentioning that to Brian. For one, it wasn’t his place and for another, he wasn’t ready to face whatever would happen and change as a result.  
  
That might be one session with Evans that he would be asked to sit in on but in the meantime Justin just wanted to put it behind them and focus, like they had been trying, on continuing forward. It wasn’t Brian’s fault and that was the end of it. Justin wasn’t sure where Michael fell on the scale of blame and where alcohol could be the scapegoat but one thing he knew was that he couldn’t stand the thought of his man blaming himself.  
  
Let the others think what they might and say what they would whenever Brian left the room. Only Brian and Michael knew what had happened in utter, excruciating detail and only Michael knew why it had come to pass.  
  
Still, it had split the family more than anyone had thought it would. It wasn’t so much a division of sides but a separation of loyalties, of forgiveness. Deb couldn’t seem to see beyond forgiving her son and Brian wasn’t about to let himself ask her to. Vic, though, had never had a shadow of a doubt about who he put his support behind. It wasn’t that he didn’t still care about Michael but his main focus was helping Brian now, as he hadn’t been able to before.  
  
Then, Brian had been so deep into denial he had almost managed to convince himself. But now, with a little under-the-table, never-to-be-mentioned help, the man seemed to be coping. More than coping, he seemed to be actually dealing with a lot of the shit that had hunched his shoulders and ensconced his emotions in the past.  
  
Justin just hoped that his partner didn’t take Ben’s decision to leave with the same vague feeling of betrayal that he couldn’t help but notice nagging at his gut. He wanted to understand, even applaud, the man for sticking with his beloved but all he had was a feeling of faint relief that while he knew he could forgive Brian anything, this was one thing that he would never have to. The man’s legend remained too large a presence on Liberty to ever have to take what was so freely given.  
  
Finally, having found some semblance of peace with the emotions within his head, Justin turned off the shower and reached for one of the large, fluffy towels kept next to the door. He fumbled for a moment without looking before finding the fabric immediately beneath his fingertips.  
  
“You should just _look_ , Sunshine. It would save a lot of time and effort.”  
  
The voice made Justin jump almost a foot in the air, shrieking childishly as he did so. He threw his partner a glare and quickly dried himself off.  
  
“What, no smart response?”  
  
Lifting the towel from his face, the blond stuck his tongue out and contemplated blowing a raspberry.  
  
“Don’t,” Brian cautioned, stepping closer without regard to the drops of moisture still clinging to the flushed porcelain skin he was reaching for. “Not unless you intend to use it.”  
  
His eyes were flashing darkly with lust and emotion as he grabbed the towel and held his blond in place. Raising an eyebrow he threw in his own smirk before lowering his head to suck the offending tongue into his mouth. Against him, Justin’s body quivered. He was unable to stop the whimper that crept up his throat and into his mouth as he clutched at the man possessing him.  
  
Gasps wracked him as the older man pulled away and kissed his forehead chastely.  
  
“Dinner,” the brunet said, stepping out of the growing puddle and shaking his feet gingerly before sauntering out of the bathroom.  
  
Justin stared after him and it was only after he’d disappeared from view that he was able to make himself move. He tossed the towel into the hamper and drew on some soft sweats, then followed the wafting smell of food as his stomach growled loudly.  
  
“Where were you in there?” Brian asked later, his voice soft around the mouthful of beef souvlaki.  
  
“What?”  
  
He smiled faintly, eyes searching his lover’s face.  
  
“When you were in the shower. You didn’t even notice me until I spoke. Where were you?”  
  
“Just thinking,” the blond mumbled. He ducked his head when a raised eyebrow was the only response. “About Ben and Hunter moving.”  
  
“Yeah. Weird, huh?”  
  
Exhaling loudly, Justin was reassured by the simplicity of the reply.  
  
“Yeah,” he agreed, glancing at the brunet out of the corner of his eye. “You okay with it?”  
  
Brian shrugged but only retorted, “You?”  
  
“About the same, actually.” A soft blue gaze examined strong features and a bent back with interest. “You see Evans?”  
  
“Sure did.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“And I saw Evans.”  
  
“I don’t get anything else?”  
  
“What else is there?”  
  
That stopped him.  
  
“This,” was all he had as he closed the space between them, moving to straddle Brian’s lap and bring their lips together. He shifted restlessly in delicious friction but his mouth remained undemanding against his lover’s. The man beneath him could set the pace and that was fine; they both knew where they would end up.  
  
“Hey Justin?” Brian murmured against his flesh, breaking the younger man’s train of thought.  
  
“Mmm, yeah?”  
  
“What’re you thinking about?”  
  
Rolling his hips once more, grinding against the erection below him, Justin was about two layers of clothing away from coherent thought. He shook his head at the question and began working on the suddenly arduous task of removing Brian’s shirt.  
  
“Justin, seriously. What’s in your head?”  
  
“Brian!” he panted, frustrated at both the time it was taking to be naked and his lover’s incessant questions. “Shut _up_! I liked you better when you wouldn’t talk about anything.”  
  
“You don’t mean that…”  
  
For an instant Justin tensed at the sound of Brian’s voice – it sounded thick with something, shaking as it flickered over his flushed flesh. Hurriedly he lifted his head, panicking briefly but smacking the back of a brunet head when he caught sight of the laughter in warm hazel eyes.  
  
“You _dork_!” he cried, pouncing immediately with the goal of tickling his aggravating partner into submission. Tickling lead to wrestling, which melded into naked struggles which then became the rhythm they were so good at, interspersed with kisses and lingering caresses.  
  
As they lay curled in the warmth of their exertions, Justin smiled at the feel of Brian’s fingers tracing aimless patterns against his skin. He nuzzled the neck right next to him, laying light kisses across the unbroken expanse of skin.  
  
“Hey Justin…”  
  
“Don’t ask,” he warned and felt his pillow shake slightly with a silent laugh.  
  
“Justin…”  
  
Arms tightened around his slight body and Justin fought to pay attention to the nuances that were key in understanding Brian Kinney.  
  
“…Thanks for staying.”  
  
It took a minute but finally Justin was able to swallow the emotions blocking his throat. He knew better than to mention the underlying meaning and instead replied off the cuff, “You’re comfy.”  
  
Above him, Brian smirked and tangling his fingers in the silky, sweaty blond hair.  
  
“Seriously, Justin. It’s been a shit of a time these past weeks and… and I appreciate you being with me. It… made it easier having someone on my side.”  
  
“I’m always on your side.”  
  
The older man was silent for a moment before snarking, “Is now when I tell you that I’m deeply, unashamedly in love with you, will be until my dying day and want you to make love to me?”  
  
Justin snorted. “Somehow I doubt Evans is _that_ good in one session.”  
  
It was quiet. And the longer it continued the more uneasy he grew. Fighting against the knowledge that he was breaking the unwritten rule of post-coital cuddling and actually about to meet his partner’s gaze, Justin lifted his head anyway and looked at his man with only a little bit of his concern showing.  
  
“So was that the big declaration?” he asked in a whisper, his tone light enough to be teasing but belied by the way he gnawed on his bottom lip.  
  
Brian just gave him a soft, genuine half smile and shrugged again. Justin’s expression softened and he blinked quickly to clear his eyes. The smile he returned was bright and full of promise; he inclined his head in a faint nod and then shifted himself to kiss warm, coral lips.  
  
“Is this the part where I fuck you?” he couldn’t help but question against those lips. He felt them curve into a slow smile.  
  
“ ‘Make love’, Sunshine,” was the response and he couldn’t hide his surprise when he felt the condom wrapper being pressed into his palm.  
  
Pulling back, Justin stared down into dark, lustful hazel until he saw what he was looking for – beneath the lust and compassion was nothing like what he feared to see. He didn’t see fear or hesitancy. All he saw was trust and that was good enough for him; he didn’t need Evans or an MD to tell him what the body or mind could handle. Trust was good enough.  
  
Flashing yet another brilliant smile, the young blond began to get up, much to his partner’s confusion.  
  
“Uhh, Justin? Weren’t we going to…?”  
  
“Well yeah,” he replied brightly, teasing gently as he pulled the older man to his feet. “But I want this to be slow and torturous; and if I do that on the hardwood then I’ll have to listen to you complain about it all day tomorrow instead of focusing on getting ready for Gus.”  
  
“Hm. In that case…”  
  
Justin only smiled when the other man beat him into the bedroom and onto the bed, making himself comfortable on his back with his hands behind his head, legs spread slightly. His body was warmed by the light still coming in the bay windows and his gaze was trained on his partner as he awaited him.  
  
Grinning, the blond crawled up his lover, kissing and licking as he went until the man was a wriggling mess beneath him. His need was evident between them but Justin’s touch was nowhere near firm enough to finish him off. Instead he kept one hand as a gauge to Brian’s arousal and their lips mashed together as he worked to deftly prepare his lover.  
  
Against the warm palm, his arousal weakened only briefly following the breach past the tight ring of muscle. And even before Justin was fully sheathed within him he was arching upwards into the sensation, eyes tightly closed and body on fire with the electricity flickering across his nerves. He tried to keep from making noises, from begging for what he was receiving but when he saw the ecstasy on his lover’s face, Brian was hard pressed to care about appearances and reputations. Giving in, he drew his blunt nails almost viciously down the smooth, pale skin undulating above him and threw back his head to groan loudly into their passion.  
  
“Brian,” Justin was gasping, the name echoing off his tongue.  
  
“Oh, oh, oh,” was all Brian could respond to the body against his that felt so warm and real. He was lost within the sensation when all of a sudden Justin stopped, hot and pulsing as he pressed against the prostate and Brian saw stars.  
  
Hips snapping in place, Justin fought to watch the emotions flitting across the face below him. He wanted to see the orgasm take Brian over until he was in that place where nothing could touch him. Safe.  
  
Confused by the limited movement, Brian’s eyes snapped open and for an instant he stared at the man above him, within him. He wanted to be angry at him for slowing the pace but then another bout of long, deep thrusts began and he felt himself grow closer to giving in to the vibrations building at the base of his spine, nearer to shattering and being rebuilt stronger than ever.  
  
Seeing more than he’d ever expected to within the smoky hazel, Justin crushed their lips together desperately as his thrusts became more erratic and he lost the ability to think. Brian’s eyelids slammed shut as he bowed to meet each thrust, scrambling wildly to draw the young man even closer than he was, until they were lost within each other. Safe.  
  
  
The next thing Brian was aware of was slender fingers weaving through his hair. Slowly he became more aware of his surroundings but didn’t plan to move. For the moment he was entirely too comfortable within Justin’s embrace, relatively safe and cared for. Everything else could wait until they felt like dealing with it. It would still be there when this moment was over.  
  
“Fuck,” Brian swore, his voice soft in the silence.  
  
“What?”  
  
The fingers never stopped and Brian tried not to move into the touch.  
  
“I’m turning into a lesbian,” he bemoaned, shuddering theatrically at the thoughts in his head.  
  
“Wait…” Fingers trailed down his stomach and wrapped firmly around his slowly filling cock. “You’re no lesbian,” Justin assured him as his hand began to move confidently against the hot flesh.  
  
“Good to know,” he conceded, smirking at the man’s ability to distract him from feeling distressed about how good he felt right then, having just been fucked – having just _made love_ – to within an inch of his natural life. He felt good. Amazingly good. He should have felt more surprised, been more suspicious of the feeling but then Justin’s oh-so-talented mouth was wrapped around his raging hard-on and he couldn’t think anymore. He could only arch his back like a bow and try not to scream.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
“Hey Brian.”  
  
He didn’t look up from his paper but knew that the other man was chewing both thoughtfully and mischievously on the end of his drawing pencil. He’d sat through this scene entirely too often not to know how it was going to play out.  
  
“What, Sunshine?”  
  
“What’re you thinking?”  
  
“Aside from how I’d like to fuck you into next week for bothering me before I’ve finished my first coffee?”  
  
“Aside from that.”  
  
He hesitated.   
  
“I was thinking… That it sure is quiet and peaceful without Mikey barging in.”  
  
Tilting his head and detecting only a faint undercurrent of tension running through his lover, Justin allowed himself to relax his guard.  
  
“That it is,” he agreed, turning back to his own project of sketching slender hands holding a mug and the coffee ring that half-covered listings for two New York penthouse apartments, circled in yesterday’s newspaper.

 

 

_**The End.** _


End file.
